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inAKr  QTArv 


OTFT 


KARMA. 


CHAPTER  L 

KT   B0X7TB  TO  THB  OABTLB. 

•*  I-rt  Mrs,  Miller*B  party,  though  it's  the  Baron's  castle,  I  asstire 
you,  Mrs.  Vaughan.  She  has  full  authority  to  issue  invita- 
tions." 

The  speaker  was  a  slightly-built,  well-dressed  man  of  about 
fifty,  with  a  fair  moustache,  light- coloured  clothes,  and  a 
buoyant,  airy  manner.  The  scene  of  the  conversation  was  the 
pleasant  garden  of  the  Hotel  du  Nord  at  Cologne,  and  the 
group  engaged  in  it,  three  ladies  and  the  Captain — Captain 
Miller,  R.N. 

'*  I  do  not  understand,"  he  went  on,  "  what  right  Mrs.  Miller 
has  to  be  giving  parties  in  another  fellow's  castle ;  but  my  ex- 
perience of  married  life  is,  that  a  husband's  businesg  Ib  to  obey 
orders  and  ask  no  questions." 

"  Don't  be  too  stupid,  Jem," — this  remark  naturally  coming 
from  Mrs.  Miller.  *'  This  once  you  know  as  much  about  the 
matter  a«  I  do  mysell  Baron  Friedrich  said,  when  the  arrange- 
ment was  made  in  London  months  ago,  that  the  party  must  have 
a  lady  at  the  head  of  it,  and  that  I  was  to  be  the  lady.  That's 
all  the  mystery  there  is  in  the  affair.  I  would  have  no  hesita- 
tion in  asking  any  friends  I  thought  likely  to  be  congenial,  even 
if  kh«7  were  only  friends  of  my  own;    but   m   regards  yon 

B 

L       025 


i  KAEMA. 

and  Miss  Yanghan,  it  goes  without  ■aying  that  the  Baron  will 

be  delighted  to  have  you." 

"I'm  sure  it  will  be  charming,  Mrs.  Miller,  and  I  hope 
mamma  will  decide  for  us  to  go ;  but  do  tell  me  all  about  it  your- 
self. We  have  only  had  the  general  idea  as  yet  from  Captain 
Miller." 

*'  Jem  ought  to  have  been  able  to  have  explained  the  whole 
arrangement  properly,  Miss  Vaughan,  but  he  never  will  take 
trouble  enough  to  make  anything  clear,  and  so  he  is  always 
misleading  people — " 

"  She  doesn't  know  yet  whether  I've  told  it  right  or  wrong," 
the  Captain  put  in,  sotto  voce^  addressing  the  elder  lady,  and 
apparently  enjoying  his  ill-usage. 

**  At  all  events,  I'm  putting  the  thing  in  a  charitable  light ; 
for  if  you  do  take  trouble,  and  yet  make  mistakes  all  the  same, 
80  much  the  worse  for  you." 

Jem  being  thus  non-suited,  Mrs,  MiUer  went  on  in  reply  to 
Miss  Vaughan, — 

"  Baron  Friedrich  had  been  telling  me  about  the  castle  at 
Heiligenfels,  which  he  has  had  put  into  thorough  repair  inside, 
©0  that  it  is  a  charming  country-house  to  live  in,  while  it  still 
looks  like  a  regular  Rhine  ruiu  from  the  outside— at  all  events, 
unless  you  look  close  with  a  telescope;  and  he  asked  me 
whether  it  wouldn't  be  a  good  idea  to  have  a  party  of  people  to 
stay  there  in  the  autumn.  I  applauded  the  notion ;  and  then 
we  agreed  that  the  party,  to  be  really  enjoyable,  ought  to  con- 
sist of  people  who  had  shown  some  intelligent  leaning  towards 
inquiry  into  psychic  matters.  That'i  how  the  arrangement 
grew  up." 

"To  have  the  Baron  helpless,"  said  Miss  Vaughan,  "in  his 
own  house,  and  make  him  tell  one  all  sorts  of  things  that  he 
never  would  do  more  than  half  explain  in  London — that  would 
be  delightful" 

"  I  want  the  time  to  be  profitably  spent  by  all  of  ns,"  Mrs. 
Miller  continued.  "  We'U  have  serious  reading  as  a  foundation 
for  first-rate  talk.  What  is  there  in  the  month  of  August,  I 
should  like  to  know,  that  ought  to  make  people  put  away  their 
books,  and  shut  up  their  minds,  and  do  nothing  but  gape  at 
mountains  and  waterfalls  1" 

"  But  with  me,  Mrs.  Miller,  the  autumn  ii  my  great  time  for 
reading  and  itody.    Thero  is  absolutely  iu>  opportunity  of 


IN  BOUTB   TO  THB  OASTLB.  8 

opening  a  book  during  the  London  season.  I  do  all  my  reading 
down  in  Devonshire." 

"Ah,  well,  everybody  does  not  live  in  such  a  fashionable 
whirl  as  Miss  Lucy  Vaughan.  But  what  I  say  is  right  either 
way.  If  you  can't  be  sensible  in  the  season,  it's  all  the  more 
reason  why  you  should  be  in  the  autumn." 

"  Everybody  knows,"  said  the  Captain,  "  that  Miss  Vaughan 
is  sensible  all  the  year  round.  Don't  let  her  put  it  that  way, 
Miss  Vaughan ;  you're  not  her  husband." 

"Miss  Vaughan  is  sensible  enough  to  understand  what  I 
mean  even  if  youWe  not,  Jem.  So  just  be  quiet  for  a  little, 
please,  and  let  me  speak." 

"  Well,  Lucy  at  least  may  be  content,  as  she  is  complimented 
on  both  sides,"  said  her  mother,  Mrs.  Vaughan,  the  elder  lady 
of  the  group,  with  a  little  air  of  waving  off  further  comments 
on  "Jem."  "So  you  were  asked  by  the  Baron,  I  understand, 
Mrs.  Miller,  to  organize  his  party  on  the  principle  you  suggested, 
and  have  done  so  accordingly.*' 

"  Quite  so,  Mrs.  Vaughan,  and,  mind,  I  am  not  representing 
it  as  especially  a  fashionable  party,  though  they  are  all  people 
you  might  meet  in  London  any  day." 

"  But  indeed,  if  there  is  a  question  which  never  rises  in  my 
mind  about  people,  it  is  the  question  whether  or  not  they  are 
fashionable.  The  attraction  for  me  in  your  invitation,  Mrs. 
Miller,  I  frankly  confess,  always  recognizing  that  which  lies  in 
your  i '  V  pleasant  society,  is  centred  in  the  Baron  himself.  I 
am  more  than  interested  in  him." 

"  The  Baron  is  perfect,  of  course,  and  he  has  not  a  thought 
in  this  matter,  I  assure  you,  beyond  realizing  my  wishes  in  all 
respects.  I  have  mapped  out  all  the  plans,  and  have  had 
quantities  of  all  the  books  we  shall  want  sent  on  to  Heiligenfels, 
and  Sir  John  Hexton  is  going  to  send  a  steam-launch  for  excur- 
sions on  the  river." 

"But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Miller,  have  you  recruited  Sir  John 
Hexton  for  one  of  your  intellectual  party  1 " 

"  Oh,  well,  perhaps  I'll  convert  him  in  time,  but  he  is  a  con- 
nection of  the  Baron's,  you  know — his  brother-in-law,  and  I  think 
it  was  the  Baron  wanted  him  asked.  Claude  Merland  is  on©  more 
of  my  selections.  He's  coming,  and  his  friend  Annerly,  as 
clever  as  he  is  ugly  to  look  at,  poor  creature,  and  my  niece  Marian 
Blane„  and  Mrs.  Lakesby.    Have  you  ever  met  Mrs.  Lakesby  ? " 


4  KABMA, 

**  No,  but  as  a  friend  either  of  Baron  Friedrich,  or  of  yonn^ 
I  am  sure  I  should  meet  her  with  pleasure." 

It  had  been  almost  settled  before  the  little  conversation 
recorded  that  Mrs.  Vaughan  would  accept  the  invitation  to  the 
castle ;  and,  before  the  two  couples  separated  to  make  ready  for 
the  tabJe-d'hStej  Mrs.  Miller  had  the  great  satisfaction  of  receiv- 
ing a  definite  promise  that  she  and  her  daughter  would  come. 

"  For  you  know,  Jem,"  said  the  energetic  lady — "  the 
Admiral,"  as  she  was  sometimes  called  by  her  intimates,  in 
recognition  of  her  authority  over  the  captain — when  they  had 
gone  up  to  their  room  together,  "I  don't  mean  that  I  aim 
especially  at  having  this  party  talked  about ;  but  still,  if  it  is 
talked  about,  the  Vaughans  will  give  it  a  cachet  It  is  quite 
providential  that  their  house  in  Devonshire  should  be  in  the 
builders'  hands  after  that  fire.  They  hardly  ever  come  abroad 
in  the  autumn.  They  have  great  parties  of  their  own  at 
Seabui-y  Hill.  I  tell  you  I  should  never  have  had  the  impu- 
dence to  ask  Mrs.  Yaughan  to  Heiligenfels  if  it  had  not  been 
for  this  odd  coincidence  of  their  coming  to  the  Rhine  of  their 
own  accord." 

*'  Invitations  you  give  in  the  Baron's  name,  Milly,"  said  the 
Captain,  lifting  his  good-tempered  face  out  of  a  basin  of  water, 
and  blowing  the  drops  out  of  his  moustache,  "  do  honour — where 
the  dickens  is  the  towel — do  honour  to  whoever  receives  them, 
no  matter  who  they  are.  And  if  I  were  you,  Milly,  I  think  I 
would  keep  him  as  much  as  possible  in  the  foreground  of  this 
business,  and  not  let  anybody  forget,  you  know,  that,  after  all — ** 

"Why,  good  gracious,  Jem,  if  there  is  a  human  being  I 
reverence  and  honour,  it  is  Baron  Friedrich.  And  I  know  very 
well  that  Mrs.  Vaughan  is  not  coming  out  of  her  way  to  pay  8 
visit  to  Captain  and  Mrs.  Miller.  I'm  honouring  him  when  I 
show  myself  proud  of  having  the  management  of  his  party. 
Don't  be  afraid  of  my  making  a  fool  of  myself  or  disgracing  the 
flag." 

The  Captain's  face  was  dry  by  this  time,  and  he  was  in  0 
position  to  make  a  demonstration  of  confidence  in  his  superior 
officer  appropriate  to  her  sex  and  attractions ;  for  "  the  Admiral " 
was  about  a  dozen  years  the  Captain's  junior,  with  bright 
brown  hair  and  eyes,  a  trim  neat  figure  finished  off  with  hands 
she  could  afford  to  make  prominent  use  of  in  argument,  and  feet 
that  never  feared  the  consequences  of  a  short  skirt. 
.   Meanwhile  Miss  Yaughan  had  gone  with  her  mother  to  the 


BN   EOUTE  TO   THB   0A8TL1.  6 

little  Baloon  attached  to  the  rooms  selected  for  them,  for  their 

night's  rest  at  Cologne. 

"  Did  you  know  Baron  von  Mondstern  had  English  connec- 
tions, mamma  1 "  askod  the  young  lady.  "  I  always  thought  he 
dropped  from  the  clouds  without  any  one  having  the  privilege 
of  claiming  kin  with  him." 

"  Lady  Hexton  was  of  German  birth,  I  know,  though  I  don't 
remember  having  heard  she  was  his  sister.  He  is  so  remarkable 
a  man  himself,  however,  that  one's  attention  is  concentrated 
on  him.  And  there  is  no  mystery  about  his  origin  to  excite 
curiosity  on  that  score.  He  is  the  last  of  his  family  left  living, 
but  Count  Blumenthal " — naming  a  famous  German  diplomaU 
— "  knows  all  about  his  people,  and  has  known  him  at  intervals 
from  boyhood." 

"And  yet  one  can't  understand  him  altogether." 

"  One  can't  understand  him  at  all.  He  has  all  the  qnalitles 
that  make  men  shine  in  society,  and  yet  he  very  rarely  emerges 
from  what  seems  a  life  of  almost  complete  seclusion.  Then  you 
cannot  account  for  this  by  supposing  him  a  misanthrope  or 
unsound  in  mind,  for  he  is  the  most  genial,  cheerful,  and 
sympathetic  friend  when  he  does  appear  in  society — " 

"And  is  simply  a  god-like  creature  to  look  at,"  added  Lucy, 
with  frank  enthusiasm. 

"  I  think  he  is  the  best  linguist  I  know,"  said  ;^^^s.  Vaughan, 
reflectively.  "  In  all  the  languages  that  I  know  anything  of  he 
seems  quite  equally  at  home." 

"  But,  mamma,  the  oddest  thing  about  him  is  that  you  may 
say  anything  in  the  world  to  him  without  drawing  him  on. 
You  know  what  I  mean  % " 

"  My  dear  Lucy,  I  know  what  you  mean  much  too  well  I 
think  it  would  be  better  if  you  made  fewer  experiments  in 
drawing  people  on." 

"  Only  a  Uttle,  little  way,  mamma  dear.  It's  so  easy  to  drive 
them  off,  and  you  never  can  tell  what  people  are  like  without 
giving  them  little  opportunities,  and  seeing  what  use  they  make 
of  them.  But  it  is  of  no  use  to  give  Baron  Friedrich  opportuni- 
ties " — and  the  girl  shook  her  beautiful  head  and  sighed  with 
the  utmost  simplicity.  Lucy  Vaughan,  it  should  be  explained, 
was  a  tall  and  stately  beauty,  with  large  blue  eyes  and  sunny 
hair,  an  animated  mouth,  in  a  perfect  Cupid's  bow,  and  a  joyous 
txuberance  of  manner. 

"It's  a  little  odd,"  said  Mrs.  Yaughan,  following  h«r  own 


6  KAEMA. 

thoughts  rather  than  paying  attention  to  her  daughter's  touching 
lament,  "  that  he  should  have  put  his  house  in  Mra  Miller's 
hands.  He  might  have  found  so  many  people,  one  would  have 
thought.'* 

"  But  if  everybody  is  to  read  and  talk  about  psychic  myste- 
ries, mamma,  Mrs.  Miller  is,  at  all  events,  the  right  person  to  be 
hostess.     She  will  hardly  ever  talk  of  anything  else." 

"  But  the  gossip  about  musical-boxes,  and  flowers,  and  so 
forth,  that  Mrs.  Miller  is  fond  of,  lies  such  immeasurable  leagues 
below  the  Baron's  level"  Then  in  a  lighter  tone,  "So  you 
have  been  giving  him  opportunities,  my  dear,  have  you,  and  all 
in  vain  ?  I  don't  think  you  choose  a  suitable  opening  for  a 
display  of  your  powers.  Would  it  be  indiscreet  to  ask  you  for 
further  details  1 " 

"  My  dear  mamma,  there  has  never  been  time  for  details.  He 
has  always  dragged  some  third  person  into  the  conversation 
directly  it  bade  fair  to  be  in  the  least  degree  interesting.  At 
Lady  Minterville's,  up  the  river,  I  actually  asked  him  to  row 
me  in  a  boat,  and  yet  he  managed  matters  so  as  to  turn  me  over 
to  Lord  Millborough." 

**  And  I'm  sure  you  ought  to  have  been  satisfied." 

"  I  don't  think  Lord  Millborough  was,  considering  the  temper 
I  was  in." 

**  My  dear  Lucy  '*  (with  a  shade  of  more  serious  annoyance), 
"  it  is  a  pity  that  you  should  ever  let  yourself  be  put  out  of 
temper ;  and  I'm  sure  I  should  have  regretted  it,  especially  if  I 
had  known  of  it  then." 

Miss  Yaughan  carefully  examined  the  pendulum  of  the  clock 
on  the  mantelpiece,  against  which  she  was  leaning,  for  some 
appreciable  interval,  holding  a  glove  she  had  just  taken  off  by 
the  tips  of  its  fingers  in  her  teeth.  Then  she  waved  the  glove 
about  a  little,  and  let  it  drop  into  her  hand,  and  said  with  a 
smile  breaking  over  features  which  were  never  used  to  wear  a 
grave  expression  for  long, — 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  shall  be  as  you  wish,  mamma,  but  yoa 
know  I  eJways  reserve  my  right  to  be  a  Sister  of  Mercy  1  ** 


fHB   ^'ADMIBAL*'    hoists   HSB  fLAO.  7 

CHAPTER  IL 

THH   "admiral"   hoists   HER   FLAO. 

Baron  Friedrich  was  not  at  the  castle  himself  when  Captain 
and  Mrs.  Miller  reached  it,  but  this  was  no  infraction  of  the 
programme.  He  had  previously  explained  that  he  would  be 
obliged  to  visit  a  distant  part  of  Germany  for  a  few  days  about 
the  time  fixed  for  the  commencement  of  the  autumn  party ; 
but  that  he  wished  Mrs.  Miller  to  take  command  of  the  house 
in  his  absence,  and  receive  the  guests,  all  the  more  decisively 
in  the  character  of  chatelainey  with  no  one  her  right  to  dispute. 

"  I  shall  be  but  one  more  guest  when  I  arrive,  please  to 
remember,  dear  madam,  "  he  wrote  in  a  note  that  was  handed  to 
Mrs.  Miller  by  the  German  major-domo  on  her  arrival ;  **  the 
servants  quite  understand  that  you  are  mistress,  and  that  I  am 
under  great  obligations  to  you,  in  that  you  enable  me  to  have 
all  the  pleasure  and  none  of  the  trouble  incidental  to  a 
restoration  to  the  uses  of  civilized  society  of  the  old  Heiligen- 
felsen  Schloss.  The  little  room  I  reserve  for  my  own  occupation 
when  1  return  is  its  only  Bluebeard's  chamber  for  you.  Survey 
the  rest  at  your  leisure  and  allot  the  apartments  at  your  pleasure." 

"  Whi  ^^  is  the  Baron's  room  ^ "  asked  Mrs.  Miller,  promptly, 
on  reading  ihe  note,  the  sunny  morning  they  arrived  by  carriage 
from  the  nearest  station  of  the  railway  from  Cologne,  about 
four  miles  distant.  She  and  the  Captain,  it  may  be  explained, 
were  not  accompanied  by  the.Vaughans,  who  had  come  to  the 
Rhine  in  deference  to  Miss  Lucy's  desire  to  visit  certain  places 
along  its  banks,  and  proposed  to  see  these  first,  finishing  their 
little  tour  at  the  restored  castle. 

"  Poor  old  Bluebeard  1 "  laughed  the  Captain,  *'  what  an 
insight  he  had  into  female  character." 

"  You  ridiculous  Jem  I  How  can  I  allot  the  rooms  if  I  don't 
know  which  ia  to  be  left  for  the  Baron  ?  I  did  not  say  I 
wanted  to  see  the  room.     I  asked  which  it  was." 

It  appeared,  however,  that  the  Baron's  room  was  high  up  a 
turretrstaircase,  and  the  inspection  of  the  castle,  by  the  sugges- 
tion of  Franz,  the  butler,  was  undertaken  in  a  more  systematic 
way.  In  the  restorations  the  general  plan  of  the  original 
2 


8  KABMA. 

bnilding  had  been  kept  to  as  closely  aa  possible,  and  the  prin- 
cipal entrance  gate  led  into  an  outer  courtyard,  now  cheerfully 
laid  out  as  a  flower-garden  ;  and  to  the  left,  out  of  this,  another 
archway  led  to  the  inner  courtyard,  from  which  three  entrances 
gave  access  to  the  interior  of  the  building.  Of  course  the  whole 
structure  was  perched  on  the  top  of  a  hill  overlooking  the  river, 
and  the  jagged  edges  of  its  upper  walls  were  carefully  left  to 
preserve  the  outlines  time  and  decay  had  bestowed  on  them. 
There  was  no  need  to  fear  that  the  crumbling  of  the  battlements 
had  extended  to  the  foundations.  The  lower  parts  of  the 
castle  were  too  solidly  put  together  to  be  any  less  able  than 
when  first  erected,  to  support  the  floors  and  roof  of  ah  inhabited 
building. 

The  outer  gate  being  at  the  back,  or  on  the  landward  face  of 
the  edifice,  the  entrance  to  the  right  of  the  inner  courtyard  as 
you  went  in  led  through  an  outer  vestibule  to  the  grand  hall  of 
the  castle,  overlooking  the  Khine.  In  former  days,  indeed, 
though  the  hall  faced  the  Rhine,  it  can  hardly  be  said  to  have 
overlooked  it,  for  the  long  narrow  windows  high  up  in  the  wall 
commanded  no  convenient  view  of  the  scenery.  Probably  this 
ofi'ered  little  to  interest  the  old  robber-knights  who  came  back 
from  Palestine,  whitewashed  of  all  their  sins  past,  present,  and 
to  come,  gaily  prepared  to  spend  the  rest  of  their  days  at 
Heiligenfels,  waylaying  the  commerce  of  the  Rhine,  and  cutting 
their  neighbours'  throats  as  opportunities  offered.  But  the 
architect  of  the  restoration  had  cunningly  cut  down  these 
windows  to  the  level  of  the  haU  floor ;  and,  throwing  them  into 
one  another,  had  converted  them,  below,  into  a  series  of  glass 
doors,  which  led  out  on  to  a  terrace — a  completely  modem 
invention— from  which  a  magnificent  panorama  of  the  winding 
stream,  and  the  distant  hills  beyond  and  on  either  hand,  was 
commanded.  In  the  hall  itself  some  suits  of  armour,  with 
authentic  histories  connecting  them  with  ancestors  of  the 
Mondstem  family,  had  been  set  up  on  either  side  of  the  fire- 
place opposite  the  principal  windows ;  and  lance  in  hand,  the 
butt  resting  on  the  ground,  they  stood  erect  as  sentinels  beside 
the  broad  stone  hearth,  that  modem  taste  had  decorated — in 
view  of  the  small  likelihood  that  it  would  be  required  to  glow 
with  buming  logs  in  August — with  d«Kcate  glass  screens,  inlaid 
with  flowers  and  ferns. 

This  principal  hall  had  been  fitted  up  as  the  drawing-room  of 


THB   "  ADMIRAL  "   HOISTS   HBB   FLAG.  9 

the  modernized  castle,  and  a  communication  through  two  or 
three  small  rooms  in  the  comer  of  the  building  led  round  to 
another  large  hall  in  the  next  face  of  the  quadrangle,  looking  up 
the  river,  which  had  been  devoted  to  the  uses  of  a  salle-a-manger. 
Abundant  accommodation  for  guests  had  been  secured  on  the 
upper  floor,  and,  in  two  or  three  cases,  turrets  afiforded  a  third 
story,  while  the  broad  roof  of  the  grand  hall  and  stone  terraces 
around  the  battlements  promised  charming  opportunities  for  al 
fresco  enjoyments  on  warm  summer  evenings.  An  awning 
covering  a  portion  of  this  upper  promenade,  in  the  angle  formed 
by  the  battlements,  and  the  principal  turret  at  the  comer  of  the 
building  at  the  upper  end  of  the  river  face,  provided  moreover 
for  the  occupation  of  this  part  of  the  roof  even  during  the  day 
while  the  sun  might  be  shining. 

Throughout,  the  castle  had  been  furnished  with  all  the  appli- 
ances of  comfort  that  modem  upholstery  could  yield.  The  bed- 
rooms, for  the  most  part,  were  cheerfully  papered,  or  panelled 
with  light-coloured  fabrics,  and  fitted  up  with  light  wood 
furniture.  In  other  cases  the  German  taste  for  deep- toned 
hangings  and  dark  walnut  had  been  allowed  to  prevail ;  but,  on 
the  whole,  the  effect  of  the  interior  was  that  of  an  English 
country-house,  embellished  with  a  great  quantity  of  mediaeval 
treasures — arms,  pictures,  and  carving,  but  not  sacrificing  its 
primary  purpose — that  of  providing  its  inmates  with  the  luxuriea 
of  their  own  era — to  any  fanatical  pursuit  of  unities. 

"  The  ruin  will  suffice  for  a  fellow  of  simple  tastes  like  me," 
said  the  Captain,  after  the  tour  of  the  house  had  been  accom- 
plished. "That  octagon  room  in  the  main  tower,  with  the 
conservatory  so  nicely  hitched  on  to  the  rock  outside,  is  just  the 
place  I  could  imagine  myself  smoking  a  cigarette  in,  with  very 
tolerable  comfort." 

"Don't  you  flatter  yourself,  Jem  my  boy,"  replied  the 
Admiral,  calmly  ;  "that  oiiigon  room  is  going  to  be  my  lad/g 
bower.  We'll  find  you  a  roomy  dungeon  somewhere  under- 
ground, that  you  can  have  for  a  sulkery  all  to  yourself." 

"  Cool  and  quiet  and  shady.  That's  not  half  a  bad  idea  of 
yours,  Milly.  A  fellow  would  be  all  to  himself,  and  out  of  the 
way  of  the  women.  Why  shouldn't  one  fit  up  a  dungeon  with 
a  reading-lamp  and  an  easy  chair  ?  With  a  latch-key  in  hii 
pocket,  what  more  would  a  fellow  want  1 " 

"You're  always  thinking  of  your  own  oomfortg,  Jem.     Do 


10  KAI^MA^ 

try  now  and  be  nnselfish  for  a  moment  and  help  me  choose  mj 
private  room.  Because  I  shall  receive  people  in  the  octagon 
room,  so  I  must  have  some  place  where  I  can't  be  disturbed 
when  I  want  to  write  letters." 

"By  all  means  let's  choose  you  all  the  rooms  you'll  want, 
because  if  you're  not  comfortable  you  won't  leave  me  in  peace 
in  my  dungeon." 

An  arrangement  was  ultimately  discovered  by  which  Miss 
Blane,  Mrs.  Miller's  niece,  could  have  a  room  adjoining  one  that 
appeared  well  suited  in  all  respects  for  Mrs.  Miller's  study,  and 
had  the  further  advantage  of  opening  out  of  her  bed-room. 
This  plan  rendered  it  necessary  that  the  Captain's  dressing  room 
should  be  at  a  little  distance ;  but  he  pointed  out  that  it  was  a 
capital  little  den  in  itself,  and  that  he  could  go  backwards  and 
forwards  in  a  dressing-gown  and  slippers  in  a  way  he  particularly 
liked. 

"  It  makes  a  fellow  seem  so  independent  when  he  «>  in  his 
own  quarters." 

"I  wouldn't  allow  it  for  a  moment  if  I  didn't  know  you 
would  be  perfectly  comfortable  so,  Jem,"  Mrs.  Miller  assured 
him ;  and  thus  the  afternoon  was  joyously  spent  in  the  distribu- 
tion of  the  abundant  territory  at  her  disposal ;  servants  following 
the  queen-regent  of  the  castle  with  cards  on  which  the  names  of 
the  expected  guests  had  been  already  written,  and  affixing  these 
to  the  various  doors  as  Mrs.  Miller  gave  out  her  decisions. 

The  first  representatives  of  the  expected  party  arrived  in  time 
for  dinner  that  evening,  in  the  persons  of  two  young  men  whom 
Captain  Miller  espied  from  the  battlements  (where  he  had  gone 
up  to  test  a  conviction  he  had  formed  in  favour  of  battlements 
as  a  place  to  smoke  cigarettes  on)  walking  up  the  lower  convolu- 
tions of  the  road  up  to  the  castle. 

"  Milly,  dear,"  he  announced,  having  descended  to  the  octagon 
loom  for  the  purpose,  "  Claude  Merland  and  Annerly  are  coming 
np  the  road." 

"  Very  well,  Jem,  you  can  go  and  receive  them  in  the  outer 
courtyard,  and  bring  them  to  see  me  here ;  and  bring  them  in 
through  the  dining-hall  and  the  library ;  I  would  like  to  show 
Merland  the  grand  hall  myself."  Mrs.  Miller  was  already  quite 
at  home  at  the  castle,  and  the  octagon  room  was  comfortably 
Uttered  with  books,  writing  materials,  and  work-baskets;  for, 
though  its   new  mistress   preferred  to  occupy  herself  in   the 


THB   "admiral"    hoists   HEB   FLAG.  11 

Intervals  of  coaversation  with  books  and  pens  rather  tLan  with 
needles  of  any  sort,  she  liked  to  have  some  rather  showy  wool- 
work or  crochet  en  evidence  wherever  she  took  up  her  abode. 
Mrs.  Miller's  pug,  moreover,  in  a  basket  with  pink  silk  linings, 
was  also  by  this  time  settled  in  a  comer  of  a  window-seat, 
thoughtfully  allotted  to  him  on  account  of  the  good  view  it  com- 
manded of  the  passing  Rhine  steamers.  Neptune,  Mrs.  Miller 
would  sometimes  explain,  always  liked  to  see  the  panorama  of 
life.  It  diverted  his  thoughts  from  himself  and  assisted  digestion. 

Claude  Merland,  whom  the  sunny-tempered  Captain  walked 
some  little  distance  down  the  road  to  meet,  was  a  young  fellow 
of  five  or  six  and  twenty,  well-made,  fair-haired,  good-looking, 
and  well-dressed,  and  well  endowed  intellectually,  as  a  single 
glance  would  show  an  observer  of  quick  perception.  Evidently 
it  was  on  the  level  of  their  higher  qualities  that  he  and  his 
friend  George  Annerly  were  linked  together.  Annerly  was 
weakly-built,  and  moved  with  the  awkward  gait  of  a  man 
whose  limbs  are  not  exactly  alike.  A  large  head  and  a  shock 
of  black  hair  were  ill-matched  with  his  slight  frame,  and 
much  physical  suJBfering  of  various  kinds  had  left  its  traces  on  his 
complexion,  which  was  sallow,  and  on  the  expression  of  his  eyes 
and  mouth,  the  lines  round  which  were  deeper  than  they  should 
have  been  for  his  age,  which  was  but  just  thirty.  He  and 
Merland  had  grown  to  be  friends  at  Cambridge.  His  five  years' 
seniority,  coupled  with  intellectual  gifts  far  above  the  average 
level,  had  readily  invested  him  in  Merland's  eyes  with  attributes 
that  fascinated  the  younger  man's  imagination,  and  evoked  his 
readily  kindled  enthusiasm.  Annerly's  means  had,  to  begin 
with,  been  of  the  smallest,  and  his  birth  of  the  humblest ;  and 
his  career  at  the  University  had  only  been  rendered  possible  by 
help  of  a  sizarship.  But  he  drew  in  the  mental  stimulants  around 
him  as  a  sponge  sucks  up  water,  and  took  high  honours  that 
carried  with  them  a  fellowship.  Merland  took  a  delight  in 
the  University  triumphs  of  his  friend,  in  which  his  interest  in 
his  own  achievements  was  almost  obliterated. 

Annerly  left  the  University  two  years  before  Merland,  and 
went  to  London  to  lay  siege  to  the  strongholds  of  the  press. 

There  Merland  afterwards  renewed  his  acquaintance,  finding 
him  but  little  elated  by  the  very  fair  success  he  had  achieved, 
not  merely  in  journalism  but  even  in  general  literature.  But 
Annerly  gave  no  explanation  of  the  deeper  gloom  that  had 


12  KABMA. 

•ettled  on  his  spirits,  beyond  referring  It  to  the  general  misery 
that  must  always  be  the  lot  of  a  man  blighted  in  physique. 

"  What  possible  happiness  in  life  can  ever  be  the  portion  of 
a  poor  crippled  wretch  like  myself  t "  he  would  say,  in  this  or 
some  other  form  of  words  always  recurring  to  the  same  deep- 
seated  resentment  at  his  fate.  "  Your  friendship,  Merland,  is  a 
good  thing  I  should  deplore  to  lose,  more  profoundly  than  words 
can  express,  but  it  would  be  affectation  to  pretend  that  even  your 
friendship  can  fill  up  all  the  aspirations  of  my  nature.  I  don't 
see  how  it  is  possible  that  existence  can  ever  be  anything  for 
me  but  a  burden  I  would  gladly  lay  down." 

Merland  would  sometimes  feel  something  like  contrition  on 
account  of  his  straight  limbs  and  strong  muscles,  his  faultless 
digestion,  and  clean  healthy  skin.  "  I  wish  we  could  strike  an 
average,  old  chap,"  he  would  say,  "  and  share  alike." 

**  I  verily  believe  you  do,  Claude,  and  it  is  a  good  thing  for 
us  both  that  we  can't,  for  there's  that  in  me  that  would  poison 
my  share  and  yours  too.  Some  men  come  into  the  world 
accursed,  and  I'm  one  of  them.  Let  that  stand  as  a  fact  that 
can't  be  altered  or  palliated,  that  I  can  see,  by  any  reasoning 
about  the  inscrutable  ways  of  Providence.  Some  people  would 
tell  me  I  shall  find  my  reward  if  I  am  meek  and  submissive  in 
another  state  of  existence,  and  they  don't  see  the  ghastly  want 
of  logic  in  that  vapid  consolation.  If  their  theory  could  be 
worked  out  it  would  amount  to  this :  that  I  am  to  get  advan- 
tages in  Heaven  denied  to  you,  for  example.  What  justice 
would  there  be  in  that  ?  Apart  from  the  probability  that  you, 
ten  to  one,  will  lead  a  life  far  better  entitling  you  to  heavenly 
happiness  than  I  shall,  and  assuming  that  we  are  both  equally 
meritorious,  then  the  arrangement  suggested  would  simply  turn 
the  tables,  and  make  you  the  victim  of  injustice ;  for  your 
superior  lot,  in  this  short  finite  life,  cannot  compensate  you  for 
getting  an  inferior  fate  through  all  eternity ;  added  to  which, 
directly  you  talk  about  degrees  of  happiness  in  Heaven,  you 
assume  the  existence  of  evil — from  which  one  person  relatively 
suffers  there  as  on  earth,  and  upsets  the  whole  hypothesis  that 
Heaven  rests  on.  There  is  no  solution  for  a  fate  like  mine  in 
terms  of  human  comprehension.  It  is  theoretically  possible 
that  we  may  all  eventually  get  above  the  level  of  those  terms, 
and  recognize  justice  in  what  at  present  seems  injustice  ;  but  what 
I  protest  against  is  the  pretence  that  my  fate,  and  that  of  othet 


TH«   "admiral'*    hoists    HER   FLAO.  18 

wretched  beings,  wretched  perhaps  in  different  ways,  can  be 
accounted  for  as  justified  by  any  set  of  ideas  that  a  man's  brain 
can  envolve.  No  1 "  in  answer  to  certain  remarks  from  his 
companion,  **  I'm  not  irreligious,  as  I  comprehend  the  expression, 
and  /  would  not  even  call  myself  agnostic.  I  do  not  rebel 
against  the  unknown  Divine  justice — that  may  transcend  human 
understanding,  but  when  I  say  my  fate  is  an  unjust  one,  I  am 
using  a  word  that  has  a  specific  meaning,  in  terms  of  the  human 
intellect,  and  along  those  lines  my  fate  is  unjust,  and  my  re- 
bellion against  it,  logical  and  inevitable.  My  indignation  is  as 
natural  a  consequence  of  my  condition  as  my  limp  is  a  conse- 
quence of  my  short  leg;  and  if  a  sugar-and-water  comforter 
tells  me  I  ought  not  to  be  indignant,  he  says  as  stupid  a  thing 
as  if  he  says  I  ought  not  to  limp." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  not  even  agnostic  t  ** 

"  I  mean  that  no  one  is  justified  yet  in  saying  that  anything 
can't  be  known.  When  we  talk  about  the  capacities  of  the 
human  understanding,  why  are  we  bound  to  assume  that  those 
capacities  will  not  develop  sooner  or  latter  in  wholly  unfore- 
seen ways  1  We  can  think  out  many  problems  now  that  less 
civilized  men  would  have  deemed  quite  insoluble.  Our  suc- 
cessors may  go  ahead  of  us.  Some  of  us  yet  living  may  push 
ahead.  I  have  always  felt  a  strong  conviction  that  such  an 
advance  must  take  place  one  day,  and  that  the  attempted  dis- 
tinction between  the  knowable  and  the  unknowable  rests  on 
quite  a  false  assumption." 

The  two  friends  had  plentiful  opportunities  for  speculative 
conversation  of  this  nature,  for  soon  after  Merland  left  Cam- 
bridge they  went  round  the  world  together.  Merland  was 
supposed  to  be  going  to  the  bar  eventually,  but  was  circum- 
stanced in  life  so  favourably  that  he  could  afford  to  regard  a 
profession  as  a  refuge  from  idleness,  to  be  taken  up  at  leisure. 
The  only  son  of  a  widowed  mother,  he  was  the  heir  apparent  of 
a  handsome  competence  bequeathed  by  the  mercantile  successes 
of  his  father;  and  had  meanwhile  more  than  enough  for  his 
wants  as  a  young  bachelor,  with  few  costly  tastes  and  middle 
station,  by  reason  of  a  moderate  collateral  fortune  that  had  come 
to  him  from  his  mother's  side  of  the  family  on  reaching  hi« 
majority.  He  had  obtained,  with  almost  greater  facility  than 
he  had  anticipated,  Annerly's  consent  to  the  Weltreiee  arrange- 
ment, the  cost  of  which  it  was  obviou«  from  the  first,  if  it  wei« 

2 


14  KABMA. 

undertaken  at  all,  would  have  to  be  defrayed  chiefly  by  the 

richer  man.  Annerly*8  fellowship  money  was  bestowed  chiefly 
on  aged  parents,  who,  unfortunate  even  in  their  humble  walk 
of  life,  would  have  been  reduced  to  deplorable  shifts  but  for 
his  help ;  and,  though  he  was  rapidly  conquering  a  position  in 
which  he  might  rely  on  a  fair  income  from  his  pen,  he  had 
no  accumulated  reserves  to  fall  back  on  for  the  purposes  of  a 
prolonged  and  expensive  tour. 

"  Your  plan  tempts  me  more  than  I  can  tell  you,  Claude," 
Annerly  avowed,  when  it  was  set  before  him  with  frank 
eimplicity  by  the  younger  man. 

"  My  mother  altogether  approves,  old  chap,**  Merland  had  been 
able  to  say,  "  and  I  have  brought  you  a  note  from  her.  We 
were  debating  whether  it  would  be  nicest  for  me  to  speak  to 
you  about  it  or  for  her  to,  so  I've  compromised  matters  by 
bringing  you  a  letter.'* 

"  I'm  a  beast  of  a  companion  for  you,  Claude,*'  said  Annerly, 
bitterly. 

"  All  right,  old  chap.  Call  yourself  any  names  you  like  so 
long  as  you  agree  to  come.  The  dad,  you  know,  can  have  your 
fellowship  money  while  you're  away,  so  nobody  suffers,  or  I 
know  you  wouldn't  move." 

"  I've  tried  every  other  sort  of  ignominy  except  being  de- 
pendent on  another  man  for  my  food.  It  would  be  a  mistake, 
perhaps,  to  leave  any  experience  of  that  sort  unexplored." 

"  That  idea  won't  float,  Geordie,  because  you  know  exactly  as 
well  as  I  do  that  if  you  were  bear -leading  any  young  fellow  who 
was  a  stranger,  you  would  expect  pay  as  well  as  expenses.  It's 
only  because  we're  friends  that  I  can  get  you  to  come  on  easy 
terms.*' 

**  While,  for  such  a  competent  bear-leader  as  I,  the  general 
public  would,  of  course,  bid  wildly.  But  it  is  not  so  much 
bear-leading  as  monkey-leading  that  we  have  to  talk  about,  and 
if  we  go,  I  shall  not  be  the  leader  of  the  party.'* 

Argument  of  this  sort  was  clearly  not  intended  to  be  final 
against  the  scheme,  and  the  journey  was  taken.  The  queerly 
assorted  companions,  as  careless  observers  thought  them,  went 
round  with  the  sun — across  America  first,  then  by  Japan  and 
China  to  India,  and  so  home  by  the  usual  route.  Merland  had 
a  perfect  healthy,  care-free  boy's  boundless  capacity  for  enjoy- 
inent)  and  drew  his  companion  to  all  the  places  of  amusement  in 


THB  "admibal"  hoists  hbb  flao.  16 

all  the  towns  they  visited  ;  and  with  Annerly  an  infinite  thirst 
for  information,  knowledge,  new  experience  of  any  and  every 
Bort,  gave  him  a  zest  for  all  they  undertook,  which,  but  for  his 
inextinguishable  energy,  might  have  failed  him  at  this  period. 
For  the  year  just  passed,  as  he  o©nfided  at  last  to  Merland,  had 
involved  him  in  adventures  which  hurt  him  very  badly. 

"  It's  altogether  monstrous  and  absurd,  of  course,"  he  freely 
declared  ;  *'  but  I  suppose  all  of  us  desire  most  keenly  whatever 
good  things  in  this  life  we  are  least  fitted  to  obtain.  I  need  not 
tell  you  how  far  I  conceive  myself  suited  to  excite  a  woman's 
love,  and  yet  I  have  been  wise  and  prudent  enough  to  invest 
all  my  prospects  of  happiness  on  the  hundred-to-one  chance 
against  me  in  that  direction." 

**  But  I  don't  see  how  the  idea's  ridiculous  at  all.  There  are 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  the  best  women  in  the  world  who 
think  nothing  at  all  about  a  man's  looks — who  think  altogether 
of  souls  and  scarcely  at  all  of  bodies.  And  after  all,  confound 
it,  Annerly,  you  talk  sometimes  as  if  you  were  a  monstrosity 
instead  of — " 

" — merely  a  very  ugly,  chetifi  badly-made  fragment  of 
humanity.  I  can  make  all  the  excuses  for  myself  that  can  be 
made.  The  bad  health  I  have  sufi'ered  from  does  not  make  me 
loathsome  in  any  way ;  the  limp  I  am  troubled  with  is  only 
just  noticeable,  and  does  not  prevent  me  from  walking  to  any 
extent.  But  a  very  grievous  mistake  was  made,  as  far  as  I  am 
concerned,  at  all  events,  when  I  was  sufi'ered  to  live  at  all. 
Whether  they  are  more  or  less  objectionable  than  I  think  them, 
my  physical  attributes  don't  fit  my  aspirations,  and  the  result  is 
torment." 

Annerly  told  his  story  by  degrees ;  not,  he  explained,  because 
he  found  any  relief  in  talking  it  over,  but  because  he  did  not 
want  to  have  mysteries  from  his  friend.  Oddly  enough,  it  was 
with  an  actress  that  he  had  fallen  in  love. 

Touched,  perhaps,  by  the  piquancy  of  being  adored  by  an 
entirely  new  sort  of  lover,  who  was  invested  with  importance 
moreover  in  the  beginning — as  a  dramatic  critic,  writing  in  an 
influential  paper,  and  carried  away,  when  intimate  with  him,  by 
the  wild  force  of  his  grande  passion^  Miss  Miriam  Seaford  had 
come  a  great  deal  nearer  giving  him  a  return  of  genuine  love 
than  might  have  been  expected.  But  their  actual  marriage 
eould  only    have    been    possible — if  carried  out    under    tb* 


16  KiEMA« 

influence  of    feeling    alone — in    plain    disregard    of   worldly 

considerations. 

Annerly  was  a  lover  of  whose  society  Miss  Seaford  never 
wearied,  but  whose  relationship  to  her  she  could  never  account 
for  to  her  friends;  and  there  were  blood  relations  in  her  case  to 
whom  the  matter  had  to  be  explained,  for  her  career  as  an 
actress  had  been  rather  a  matter  of  choice  than  of  necessity. 

If  Annerly  had  been  rich,  an  attachment  to  him,  even  'hough 
springing  from  the  highest  motives,  really  could  hav3  been 
justified  in  the  sight  of  others  by  an  appeal  to  those  >f  a  ^">wot 
order,  which  friends,  in  such  cases,  always  lespeot.  But  'le 
was  quite  the  reverse  of  rich ;  and  his  prospects  :^Ji  life,  os- 
pecially  when  he  became  engaged  to  Miss  Seaford,  were  alto- 
gether speculative.  The  engagement,  as  Annerly  regarded  it, 
though  the  lady  may  never  have  fully  felt  it  to  be  that,  dragged 
on  for  some  months ;  and  then  one  day,  when  Annerly  went  to 
see  his  inamorata,  he  found  vacant  lodgings  and  a  letter. 

**  You  love  me  so  truly,"  she  wrote,  "  that  you  will  want  to 
spare  me  pain,  and  this,  for  me,  is  the  least  painful  way  of 
ending  our  day  dream." 

She  had  slipped  off  on  a  professional  engagement  in  the 
provinces,  arranged  by  her  friends,  who  had  wished  to  shield 
her  from  the  consequences  of  what  they  regarded  as  her 
infatuation. 

"  It  was  awfully  cruel,"  Merland  said. 

"No;  she  was  quite  in  the  right.  What  would  my  pro- 
fessions of  love  for  her  have  been  worth  if  I  had  not  been 
willing  to  spare  her  pain  at  my  own  cost  1  Perhaps  she  did  not 
estimate  the  full  intensity  of  the  torture  I  should  go  through. 
Perhaps  she  did  not  realize  one-hundredth  part  of  it.  But  what 
does  that  matter  1  I  would  have  burnt  off  a  limb  for  her  sake ; 
but  the  sacrifices  we  have  to  make  are  never  the  exact  sacrifices 
we  would  have  chosen  to  make." 

Wherever  the  friends  went  Merland's  joyous  and  sunny 
temperament  and  pleasant  looks  made  them  welcome ;  and,  if 
Annerly  would  not  in  the  first  instance  perhaps  have  been  so 
cordially  received,  he  would  often  be  hardly  the  least  regretted 
of  the  two  when  they  left.  For  in  society  his  mind  was  too 
active  to  be  quenched  by  the  sub-consciousness  of  his  own 
trouble,  and  he  never  brought  this  needlessly  en  evidence  by 
posing  as  a  gloomy  Byronic  victim. 


THE    "  ADMIBAL  **    HOISTS    HEB   FLAG.  17 

At  Calcutta,  where  the  travellers  stayed  a  month,  he  made 
some  warm  friends,  though  going  about  less  than  the  more 
generally  popular  MerlanJ,  who  plunged  eagerly  into  all  the 
amusements  of  the  place,  including  lawn-tennis  and  dancing, 
from  which  Annerly  held  naturally  aloof,  and  was  thus  caught 
up  in  a  larger  whirl  of  party-going.  Here  it  was  that  the  two 
friends  first  met  Mrs.  Milly  Miller  and  her  faithful  Captain, 
then  holding  a  naval  appointment  on  shore  under  the  Govern- 
ment of  India.  And  Mrs.  Milly  annexed  Annerly  very  soon 
after  they  were  acquainted. 

'*  I  don't  care  about  looks,"  she  explained  to  him  in  the  most 
straightforward  manner.  "  I  care  about  men  for  their  minds. 
I'd  much  rather  talk  to  you  than  to  your  friend,  though  he^s 
worth  forty  average  subalterns.  Some  ladies  like  the  subalterns 
best,  but  I  never  fell  in  with  the  fashion  about  boys.  I'll  dance 
with  them  as  much  as  they  like,  and  then  I'll  come  back  and 
talk  to  you." 

Annerly  winced  a  little  at  this  undisguised  allusion  to  his 
physique,  but  drifted  with  the  stream  of  events,  and,  since  Mrs. 
Miller  chose  to  claim  a  good  deal  of  his  time  and  attention, 
cheerfully  gave  it  her  accordingly,  and,  as  he  readily  admitted 
afterwards,  had  much  to  be  grateful  to  IMrs.  Miller  for,  in  his 
turn,  on  the  whole  account.  He  passed  more  time  at  her  house 
while  at  Calcutta  than  anywhere  else,  met  many  pleasant  and 
intelligent  people  there,  and  gladly  undertook  to  renew  the 
acquaintance  in  London  when  the  Millers  should  return  home. 
Naturally,  Mrs.  Miller  talked  to  him  a  good  deal  of  a  subject 
always  uppermost  in  her  mind. 

"  It  is  not  the  slightest  use,"  she  told  him,  "  for  people  to 
sneer  at  me  for  believing  in  spiritualism.  I  don't  believe — I 
hnow^  and  I  only  pity  the  ignorance  of  people  who  don't.  When 
I  was  at  home  last  I  made  up  my  mind  to  get  to  the  bottom  of 
the  matter,  and  I  went  to  aU  the  mediums  I  could  hear  of,  and 
had  all  I  could  get  to  my  house,  and  a  queer  lot  they  were,  aU 
round.  Now  I  don't  say  I  didn't  see  any  cheating.  I  saw  a 
lot  of  cheating,  but  I  saw  a  good  deal  more  besides ;  and,  though 
you  may  show  me  half-a-dozen  forged  bank-notes,  that  doesn't 
prove  there  are  no  such  things  as  good  ones.  I've  had  tables 
move  about  under  my  own  eyes  in  the  light,  when  nobody  was 
touching  them — in  my  own  room,  too,  you'll  understand.  I've 
put  down  a  musical-box  of  my  own  on  my  dressing-table  in  one 

c 


18  KAEHA. 

room ;  Fve  gone  straight  into  another  room  and  shut  the  door, 
and  that  box  has  been  brought  to  me  five  minutes  afterwards 
without  the  door  ever  being  opened.  What  does  it  matter  that 
we  were  in  the  dark  1  It  was  in  the  light  when  I  left  my  box 
in  my  bedroom,  in  a  room  by  myself,  and  came  away.  Any- 
body must  be  a  donkey  who  does  not  see  that  it  makes  no 
difi'erence  to  me  that  the  room  into  which  it  was  afterwards 
brought  was  dark  or  light.  It  came  in  an  abnormal  way,  and 
that  is  all  I  want  to  prove." 

"  That  sort  of  thing  generally,"  Annerly  admitted,  "  is  as  weU 
authenticated  in  the  books  on  the  subject  as  the  existence  of 
the  Nile  lakes,  for  example,  which,  after  all,  only  a  few  of  us 
have  actually  seen  with  our  own  eyes." 

"  But  people  won't  read  the  books.  That's  what  I  find  so 
exasperating.  They  persist  in  remaining  ignorant,  and  they 
give  themselves  airs  of  superiority  to  people  who  have  taken 
the  trouble  to  learn.  Now  I  took  aU  the  trouble  to  get  my 
evidence  first-hand,  that  I  might  be  able  to  meet  what  people 
constantly  say  if  you  give  them  an  opening,  '  What  have  you 
seen  with  your  own  eyes  1 '  I've  seen  with  my  own  eyes  pretty 
weU  aU  there  is  to  see,  and  yet  the  sceptics  can't  or  won't  see 
that,  in  face  of  that,  in  talking  to  me  they  haven't  a  leg  to  stand 
on." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Miller,  you  are  too  kind  to  the  sceptics  in  taking 
all  the  pains  you  do  to  convert  them." 

"  Kind  to  them  1  Jem  says  I'm  rude,  so  I  suspect  I  hit  the 
happy  mean.  But  one  mustn't  be  selfish.  If  I've  come  to  know 
a  good  deal  more  than  most  of  the  people  I  meet  here,  I  can't 
help  doing  my  little  best  to  lift  them  up  out  of  the  darkness 
they  live  in.  I  sat  next  to  Sir  WiUiam  Maccruthers," 
mentioning  a  magnate  of  Calcutta  society,  "  the  other  evening, 
and  he  said  he  thought  I  had  been  wasting  my  time  over  a 
pitiful  delusion.  So  I  just  put  him  through  lus  facings.  I 
made  him  confess  that  he  had  never  read  a  book  on  the  subject, 
and  had  never  been  to  a  seance^  and  yet  he  asserted  that  what 
was  written  could  not  be  true,  and  what  people  saw  at  seances 
must  be  imposture.  Then  I  told  him  I'd  talk  to  him  again 
about  the  matter  if  he  ever  acquired  a  right  to  have  an 
opinion." 

"  Depend  upon  it  he  wiU  go  on  to  the  end  of  the  chapter 
without  having  such  a  right,  but  having  a  very  derided  opinion, 


THE   PUEPOSE   OP   TEE   PAETY.  19 

nevertheless.  Even  granting  that  you  have  got  an  important 
new  truth  to  impart,  there  are  plenty  of  people  in  the  world 
who  don't  want  to  trouble  themselves  about  it.  Why  try  to 
make  them  1 " 

"  p]ecause  nobody  ought  to  hide  his  light  under  a  bushel.  If 
you  found  out  a  new  truth  in  chemistry,  you'd  be  ashamed  of 
yourself  if  you  did  not  publish  it." 

"  But  I  should  not  concern  myself  with  the  people  who  did 
not  read  my  book  after  I  had  published  it." 

"  But  you  wouldn't  stand  having  people  meet  you  in  society 
and  telling  you  you  hadn't  made  your  discovery.  Let  a  man 
tell  me  he  doesn't  care  to  have  dealings  with  disembodied  spirits 
and  I  only  pity  him ;  but  let  him  tell  me  I've  never  had  any 
such  dealings,  and — well,  I  pity  him  worse,  and  it  isn't  my 
fault  if  I  don't  make  him  feel  it." 

"  You're  a  determined  propagandist,  Mrs.  Miller ;  and  your 
temperament,  after  all,  is  the  one  that  moves  the  world." 


CHAPTER  IIL 

THE  PURPOSE  OP  THE  PARTT. 

Captain  Miller  faithfully  obeyed  orders  in  regard  to  the 
circuitous  route  by  which  he  introduced  the  guests  to  his  wife's 
presence,  and  she  in  due  turn  did  the  honours  of  the  more 
interesting  portions  of  the  castle. 

"  You  two  are  favoured,  you  will  observe,"  she  said  when 
all  together  they  had  wandered  over  the  still  interesting  ins  and 
outs  of  the  curious  old  building  and  came  eventually  to  the 
apartments  assigned  to  Merland  and  Annerly,  "by  having 
rooms  one  on  each  side  of  the  winding  staircase  that  leads  up  to 
the  Baron's  turret." 

"  Our  Bluebeard's  chamber,"  said  Captain  Miller.  "  She's 
dying  to  go  up  and  rummage  there,  but  hasn't  ventured  yet." 

"Jem  is  ti-ying  hard  to  goad  me  into  doing  so,  but  has  not 
Bucceeded.     The  staircase  only  leads  to  the  Baron's  apartments, 

0  2 


20  KARMA. 

and,  unless  I  am  obliged  to  go  up  to  see  that  they  have  been 
properly  got  ready  for  him,  I  shaU  certainly  not  be  tempted  to 
go  from  mere  curiosity." 

"Didn't  you  understand,"  said  Annerly  some  time  after- 
wards, to  Merland  when,  their  luggage  having  duly  arrived,  and 
their  dinner  toilets  having  been  made,  he  sought  his  friend 
before  going  down,  "  didn't  you  imderstand  Mrs.  Miller  to  say 
that  Baron  von  Mondstern  had  not  returned  to  the  castle  1 " 

"  Certainly ;  he  was  not  expected  for  two  or  three  days." 

"  I  fancy  he  has  come  sooner  than  he  was  expected,  then. 
For  just  now,  in  passing  the  turret-stairs,  I  saw  a  man  turning 
round  the  upper  landing.     What  is  the  Earon  like  ? " 

Merland  had  met  Baron  Friedrich  in  London  society  the 
previous  season,  but  Annerly  had  not,  and  was  at  present  at 
Heiligenfels  on  Mrs.  Miller's  invitation. 

"  A  tall  man  with  light  brown  hair  and  beard,  and  a  pleasant 
look.     An  awfully  good-looking,  imposing  sort  of  person." 

"  That's  the  man  I  saw  or  think  I  saw,"  said  Annerly,  with 
some  hesitation.  "  It  was  only  for  a  moment  as  he  turned  the 
comer." 

**  So  our  host  has  come  back,"  said  Merland  to  Mrs.  Miller 
when  they  met  in  the  grand  hall. 

"  Our  host !  the  Baron  !  What  do  you  mean  1  He  is  not 
coming  back  for  two  or  three  days." 

"  But  Annerly  saw  him  going  up  to  his  room." 

.**  I'm  not  at  all  sure,"  said  Annerly  with  a  puzzled  air.  "  I 
thought  I  saw  a  man  going  up  the  stairs,  but  it  was  getting 
dusk,  and  perhaps  I  was  mistaken." 

"  Can  he  have  come  back  suddenly  and  gone  up  to  dress  t 
Eing  and  ask  the  butler,  Jem." 

The  butler  was  quite  sure  that  no  one  had  come  to  the  castle 
since  the  two  gentlemen,  least  of  all  his  master. 

"  You  must  have  been  having  a  little  nap  before  getting 
ready  for  dinner,  Mr.  Annerly,"  said  Mrs.  Miller. 

"  Now,  if  it  had  been  the  Baron's  grandfather  you  saw, 
Annerly,"  said  Captain  Jem,  "Mrs.  Miller  would  have  been 
sure  you'd  seen  a  spirit,  and  you'd  have  got  great  kudos.  But 
it  doesn't  help  us  along  at  all  for  you  only  to  see  the  Baron." 

"  What  nonsense  you  talk,  Jem.  Why,  first  of  all,  Mr. 
Annerly  doesn't  know  the  Baron  yet.  How  could  he  tell  if  he 
did  see  him  1     I  suppose  he  saw  lus  servant  going  up  the  stairs." 


THE    PURPOSE    OF   THE   PARTY.  21 

"At  all  events,"  said  Annerly,  "I  jumped  to  a  hasty  con- 
clusion." 

"  Now,  if  you  were  clairvoyant,"  said  Mrs.  Miller ; — "  but 
are  you  clairvoyant  ? " 

"  Certainly  not,"  Annerly  replied,  always  eager  to  disclaim 
distinguished  attributes  of  any  sort. 

"  If  you  had  been,  you  might  have  seen  something  prophetic. 
But  I  suspect  we  must  wait  for  that  till  Mrs.  Lakesby  comes." 

**  Who  is  Mrs.  Lakesby  1 "  Merland  asked. 

"  A  very  wonderful  person,  I  believe,  but  I  barely  know  her. 
The  Baron  introduced  her  to  me  at  a  party  in  London  a  week 
ago,  and  said  if  I  could  persuade  her  to  come  here  she  would  be 
a  great  acquisition  for  our  psychic  circle." 

**  By-the-bye,  Merland,"  said  Captain  Jem,  "  you  must  not 
talk  about  our  spiritualistic  party  as  we  used  in  town  when  it 
was  first  started.  We  got  into  harmony  with  the  latest  fashions 
before  we  had  done,  and  we're  going  to  be  a  psychic  team." 

"Jem,  you  have  a  very  bad  habit  of  talking  about  these 
things  in  a  tone  that  would  make  any  person  who  didn't  know 
you  think  you  were  scoffing  and  turning  the  whole  thing  into 
ridicule.  It  doesn't  matter  before  Merland  and  Annerly  " — in 
the  warmth  of  conversation  Mrs.  JMiller  would  sometimes  drop 
the  '  Mr.V  of  her  intimate  friends — "  but  I  do  hope  you  will 
not  keep  that  sort  of  thing  up  before  doubtful  people." 

"  My  dear  Milly,  you  always  forget  that  your  circus  wouldn't 
be  complete  without  a  clown." 

"  Dear  old  Jem,"  said  Merland,  putting  his  arm  through  the 
Captain's  as  they  all  stood  together  at  the  window,  looking  out 
into  the  twilight  over  the  Rhine,  "  he's  an  awfully  bad  lot  still, 
I  see,  Mrs.  Miller.  You  haven't  been  keeping  him  up  to  the 
mark  since  we  were  all  together  in  India,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Jem  will  be  only  too  well  off  presently,  anyhow,  when  the 
castle  gets  full  of  women  and  girls ;  and  he'll  indemnify  himself, 
I  don't  doubt,  for  any  plain  truths  I  tell  him.  But  you  want 
to  know  something  about  !RIrs.  Lakesby.  I  don't  know  her 
much  myself  yet,  but  I  know  a  good  deal  of  her ;  and  she  really 
is  a  clairvoyante,  I  believe.  Something  altogether  out  of  the 
common  way  in  that  line." 

"  Never  see's  anything  nearer  than  the  middle  of  next  week," 
■aid  the  Captain  in  a  stage-whisper  to  Merland. 

"  She  is  very  reserved  about  her  accomplishments,"  said  Mrs, 


22  KAEMA. 

Miller,  without  designing  to  notice  the  aside,  "and  has  only 
been  in  the  habit  of  exercising  her  gifts  for  a  very  few  intimate 
friends.  It  is  a  great  mercy  for  us  that  she  has  been  willing  to 
come." 

"  What  does  she  do  1 "  asked  Merland ;  "  does  she  look  about 
the  world  clairvoyantly,  and  tell  people  what  is  going  on  in 
distant  places  1 " 

"-  ssh ! "  said  the  Captain  in  another  stage-whisper  of  an 
awe-stricken  tone  ;  "~  ssh  !  You're  talking  about  Mrs.  Lakeshyf 
my  dear  fellow.  You  must  not  speak  of  her  in  that  irreverent 
way." 

"  What's  wrong  1  I  thought  clairvoyants  were  people  who 
could  see — " 

"Through  deal  boards,  of  course;  so  they  can,  but  they 
mustn't.     It's  infra  dig." 

"  Mrs.  Lakesby,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out,"  said  Mrs.  Miller, 
"  sees  great  spirits  who  teach  her  all  sorts  of  things,  exalted 
philosophy  and  so  forth,  and  she  passes  this  on  to  her  friends. 
That's  the  sort  of  clairvoyance  she  practises,  not  mere  stupid 
looking  about  into  other  people's  rooms,  like  the  tricks  you  read 
about  of  the  professional  clairvoyants.  But,  aU  the  same,  I 
suspect  if  you  take  her  the  right  way,  and  catch  the  right 
moment,  you  will  get  the  most  interesting  results  with  her, 
sometimes.  AU  sensitives  are  very  difficult  people  to  handle, 
whether  they  are  ladies  and  gentlemen,  or  paid  mediums." 

"But,"  said  Annerly,  "if  one  could  be  reasonably  sure  that 
she  was  in  communication  with  great  spirits,  and  learning  any- 
thing resembling  exalted  philosophy,  one  would  a  great  deal 
rather  hear  about  that,  than  about  what  might  be  going  on  in 
another  roouL" 

"  Of  course — for  one's  self,"  said  Mrs.  Miller ;  "  but  one  must 
have  phenomena  to  break  the  heads  of  the  sceptics  with.  Sup- 
osing  I  go  to  Professor  Maxbur  and  tell  him  Mrs.  Lakesby's 
spirits  have  told  us  so  and  so  1  What  does  he  think  ?  Why, 
he  merely  laughs  at  me.  But  if  I  can  tell  him  that  Mi-s. 
Lakesby  found  a  page  in  a  book,  clairvoyantly,  that  I  asked  her 
to  find,  for  instance,  and  read  what  was  on  it  without  opening 
the  book,  he  can't  laugh  at  that,  or,  if  he  does,  he's  a  fooL" 

"  I'm  afraied  I  look  at  these  matters  in  a  more  selfish  way 
than  you  do,  ^Jrs.  Miller,"  Annerly  replied  "  If  I  got  upon  a 
really  good  trail  that  seemed  to  lead  me  to  a  higher  knowledge, 


TflE    PUEPOSB    OF    THE    PAETlf.  23 

I  should  be  inclined  to  follow  it  on,  wherever  it  might  lead,  and 
I  don't  think  it  would  ever  occur  to  me  to  turn  back  and  try  to 
get  anybody  else  to  come  along  too." 

'*  Well,  that's  not  my  way,  and  I  don't  pretend  to  think  that's 
the  right  way.  Let's  share  and  shai  e  alike ;  if  we  any  of  us 
get  any  light,  don't  let  us  hide  it ;  if  we  get  proofs,  let  us  take 
them  to  the  cleverest  men  of  the  age  and  drive  them  into  the 
right  path  of  investigation." 

"But  look  here,  Mrs.  Miller,"  Merland  put  in;  "what 
Aimerly  calls  selfishness  isn't  anything  of  the  sort,  really. 
Now  suppose  that  that  fellow  ihere  himself  " — indicating  his 
friend — ''  who  is  a  gieat  mathematical  swell,  as  you  know,  hits 
upon  some  new  method  that  no  one  else  had  ever  thought  of 
before.  He's  got  to  worry  it  out  a  good  while  by  himself  before 
he  can  get  his  ideas  into  shape  to  put  before  anybody  else. 
While  he's  on  the  hunt  he  can't  stop  to  think  about  explaining 
what  he's  after." 

"  But  when  he's  found  out  his  new  method  he  gives  it  out  to 
the  world  as  a  matter  of  course ;  or  else  who  on  earth  is  the 
better  for  it  1 " 

"  Sooner  or  latter  of  course ;  but  I  can  quite  see  that  the 
first  thing  to  do  is  to  worry  out  your  new  idea." 

"  Here's  a  really  good  test-question  for  us  all  to  fight  about," 
put  in  the  Captain.  "  We  must  ask  every  man  as  he  comes 
whether  he'll  go  in  for  the  secret  system,  or  for  doing  everything 
above  board." 

The  castle  began  to  fill  next  day,  and  Captain  Miller  had 
many  opportunities  of  putting  his  test-question,  which  evoked 
more  desultory  conversation  than  direct  declarations  of  prin- 
ciple. 

"Marian  is  coming  after  all  with  the  Massiltons,"  Mrs. 
Miller  had  announced  to  her  husband  in  the  morning,  when 
some  letters  arrived  by  an  early  post.  '*  You  had  better  go 
down  to  Schonort  and  meet  them ;  they  will  be  here  by  the 
same  train  we  came  by." 

"But  who  makes  the  fourth?  That  Professor  is  always 
happy  with  a  girl  to  talk  to ;  but  how  has  Lady  Emily  been 
provided  for  ? " 

"  Lady  Emily,  you  may  be  sure,  Jem,  is  quite  able  to  provide 
for  herself.  She  doesn't  say  in  her  note  whether  any  one  else 
is  coming  with   them.     Marian  was    to    have  come  with  her 


24  KARMA. 

brother  round  by  Barenburg  and  down  by  the  boat  to  Schlessig» 
but  they  seem  to  have  changed  their  plans." 

"  Willy  will  be  here  in  the  course  of  the  morning  if  he  keeps 
to  the  boat  idea.  "We  must  keep  a  bright  look-out  from  the 
battlements  for  him." 

And  Captain  Jem,  accompanied  by  Merland,  took  up  his 
post  accordingly  after  breakfast  under  the  awning  on  the  castle- 
roof,  from  which  he  had  spied  the  approach  of  the  first  guests 
the  previous  afternoon.  Mrs.  Miller  had  letters  to  write ;  and 
Annerly,  also,  remained  in  his  own  quarters. 

"Ering  your  luggage  and  come  along,  Claude,"  the  Captain 
said,  picking  up  his  own  "  luggage,"  from  which  he  was  rarely 
parted— a  box  of  Turkish  tobacco,  with  a  bundle  of  cigarette- 
papers,  and  a  match-box,  attached  by  elastic  threads  to  the  lid. 

"  My  luggage  is  more  portable,  Jem."  Captain  Miller  was  a 
man  whom  his  friends  fell  readily  into  a  way  of  calling  by  his 
familiar  name,  and  one,  moreover,  who  was  somehow  everybody's 
contemporary,  so  (hat  difference  of  years  between  him  and 
younger  men  was  apt  to  be  obliterated.  "  I've  got  it  concealed 
about  my  person.     Lead  on." 

"  The  Rhine-boat  will  land  Willy  Blane  over  at  that  village 
on  the  other  side— Schlessig  they  call  it.  Then  he'll  have  to 
come  across  in  a  little  boat,  and  when  we  make  him  out  we'll 
swoop  down  upon  him,  as  the  Baron's  mediseval  forefathers 
used  to  be  down  on  their  prey,  I  daresay,  after  watching  up 
here  for  a  good  fat  cargo-boat.  It's  a  queer  thing,  when  you 
think  of  it,  what  a  rascaUy  lot  they  were,  those  same  old  fore- 
fathers, and  what  a  den  of  thieves  this  place  here  must  have 
been.  And  now  there's  the  last  of  the  Barons— our  Friedrich 
— ^just  as  good  an  imitation  of  a  saint,  I  fancy,  as  this  period 
can  produce,  besides  a  prince  of  good  fellows  all  ways ;  and  as 
for  the  castle — here  are  two  superior  people  sitting  on  the  roof, 
smoking  their  tobacco,  and  watching  to  welcome  their  friends. 
We've  been  born  into  a  better  time  than  we  might  have  dropped 
on,  Claude,  if  we'd  accidentally  looked  in  on  this  world  a  few 
hundred  years  sooner." 

"  Some  of  us  have  got  good  treatment  anyway ;  *  that's  so,'  as 
they  say  in  America.  But  I  wouldn't  dwell  on  that  idea  in 
poor  old  Annerly's  hearing.  He  doesn't  find  the  world  such 
a  nice  place." 

**  Poor  old  chap ! "    Captain   Jem    was  about  twenty  years 


THE    PUBPOSE   OF   THE   PARTY.  25 

Annerly'e  senior  as  actual  age  would  have  decided,  but  had  no 
sense  of  using  the  phrase  inappropriately.  "  It's  a  pity  he  looks 
on  the  gloomy  side  of  things  so  much.  The  world  as  a  place  to 
live  in,  if  he  would  look  at  it  in  that  way,  is  just  the  same  place 
for  him,  that  it  is  for  you  and  me  ;  and  a  better  place,  it  seems 
to  me,  than  it  used  to  be.  Some  things  are  very  hard  for  him, 
but  then  look  what  a  genius  he  is.  He's  bound  to  get  on 
tremendously  whenever  he  makes  up  his  mind  to  try  really." 

"  It  wouldn't  make  him  happy,  I'm  afraid,  if  he  did.  He's  a 
first-rate  companion  ;  endlessly  full  of  thought  and  conversation, 
and  yet  so  modest  and  sympathetic — more  interested  about  your 
affairs  than  his  own.  But  he  gets  miserable  always  as  soon  as 
he  thinks  in  anyway  about  himself." 

"  Some  woman  ought  to  take  him  in  hand." 

"  He  looks  on  himself  as  cut  off  from  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"Don't  you  believe  it.  There  are  women  in  the  world  to 
suit  every  sort  of  chap.  If  he  does  something  in  the  world  to 
make  himself  famous,  heaps  of  women  would  care  nothing  about 
his  size — it's  all  a  question  of  confidence.  Look  at  that  Pro- 
fessor who's  coming  here  to-day.  He's  older  than  I  am,  but  he 
makes  love  to  every  pretty  girl  he  comes  near,  and  has  them  all 
at  his  beck  and  call." 

"But  that's  all  mere  sport  for  them,  because  he's  married 
already." 

"  It  can't  lead  to  anything  -with  them  of  course,  because  of 
Lady  Emily ;  but,  if  there  wasn't  a  Lady  Emily  in  the  case, 
Massilton  would  not  find  his  years  much  in  his  way." 

"It  must  be  rather  rough  on  her,  meanwhile." 

"  They're  both  very  tolerant ;  I  don't  understand  them  alto- 
gether.    She's  young  and  very  fashionable,  and  that  ought  to 
suit  him,  but  I  don't  think  they  step  together  quite." 
;.    They  chatted  on  for  some  time  longer,  and  then  sighted  the 
expected  steamer. 

"  That  ought  to  be  Blane's  boat  coming  round  the  turn  in  the 
river." 

In  due  course  a  small  boat  was  observed  to  put  off  from  the 
Schlessig  landing-place,  and  then  the  Captain  and  Merland  set 
off  down  the  hill. 

"  Willy  Blane  is  a  cousin  of  my  wife's,  though  she  gives  his 
sister  brevet-rank  aa  her  niece ;  a  very  studious  sort  of  fellow, 
always  up  to  his  eyes  in  books,  but  A  1  all  the  way  through.     If 


26  EABMA. 

I  was  in  any  sort  of  trouble  I  should  go  to  Willy  Blane  for  help 
just  as  a  matter  of  course." 

The  man  they  met  at  the  little  landing-stage  below  the  castle 
was  about  five-and-thirty,  shaven  all  but  the  moustache,  which 
remained  dark  while  his  hair  was  almost  all  turned  to  the 
silvery-grey  which  sometimes  improves  rather  than  impairs  the 
good  looks  of  men  who  show  no  other  signs  of  age.  Of  medium 
height,  however,  and  rather  carelessly  dressed,  with  a  slouching 
way  of  holding  himself,  Blane  made  no  claim  whatever  to  be 
noticed  on  the  score  of  his  physique.  A  hearty  greeting  with 
Captain  Jem,  condensed  into  the  simplest  British  language,  an 
introduction  to  Merland  of  the  sternly  British  type,  and  a  few 
instructions  to  the  boatman  about  the  luggage,  and  then  the 
three  men  took  the  footpath  up  the  hill.  Mrs.  Miller  was  duly 
inquired  after  by  the  new-comer. 

"  Milly  is  bearing  up  very  nicely,  thanks,  old  man,  against 
her  usual  good  health  and  prosperity." 

"  And  the  cares  of  her  important  party." 

"  Which  are  borne  chiefly  by  the  Baron's  butler.  Milly  has 
the  honour  and  glory  of  it." 

"And  that  may  prove  very  considerable.  I  am  not  easily 
tempted  out  to  country  houses  of  any  kind,  but  this  party  is  one 
I  should  have  been  very  sorry  not  to  have  been  privileged  to 
join." 

"  The  party  is  privileged  to  have  you  join  it,  old  man ;  I'm 
sure  the  Baron  thinks  so." 

"  That's  a  very  nice  way  of  putting  it,  of  course ;  but  I  enter- 
tain an  opinion  about  Baron  von  Mondstem  which  makes  me 
quite  sure  nobody  can  confer  favours  on  him  by  being  his  guest, 
not  to  speak  of  insignificant  people  like  myself.  I  have  no  very 
clear  impression  as  to  what  the  Baron  aims  at  in  having 
organised  this  party,  but  I  have  a  strong  feeling  that  we  ought 
to  be  all  the  better  and  the  wiser  for  it." 

"  How  was  it  Marian  did  not  come  with  you  ? " 

"  She  wished  at  the  last  moment  to  travel  with  the  Massil- 
tons.  I  do  not  presume  to  control  her  decisions  in  these  matters, 
always  supposing  they  are  reasonable,  which  of  coiirse  they 
always  are." 

"Is  anybody  else  travelling  with  the  Massiltons,  do  you 
know?" 

"  Sir  John  Hexton,  I  believe." 


THE  PURPOSE  OP  THE  PARTY.         27 

Oh  I  I  see.     Yes,  of  course." 

But  Blane  was  too  much  interested  in  the  intellectual  aspect 
of  the  Heiligenfels  party  to  dwell  on  details  of  this  kind. 

"  I  do  not  think,"  he  said,  "  that  Baron  von  Mondstern  can 
have  set  this  party  on  foot  without  having  something  more  than 
a  mere  social  entertainment  in  view.  His  nature  seems  to  me 
so  elevated  that  he  could  not  concern  himself,  for  their  own  sake, 
with  common-place  amusements  and  pastimes." 

"  I  never  met  a  man  who  impressed  me  so  much  as  he  did," 
Merland  said.  *'  We  got  talking,  when  I  was  introduced  to  him, 
about  German  philosophy,  and  I  felt  afterwards  as  if  I  had 
never  before  realised  the  spirit,  and  the  tendencies,  and  the 
progressive  coherence  of  the  whole,  in  all  that  system  of  thought. 
Later  on  he  referred  to  our  conversation  in  a  note  I  had  from 
him  in  so  graceful  a  way,  asking  me  to  come  here  this  autumn 
to  renew  it  more  at  leisure,  as  if  it  had  interested  him^  when  of 
course  he  had  simply  been  giving  me  ideas." 

"  It  was  much  the  same  in  my  own  case,"  Blane  said,  "  with 
appropriate  differences.  I  have  no  doubt  myself,  that,  in  some 
school  of  mysticism  to  which  he  belongs,  the  Baron  has  ac- 
quired a  great  deal  more  real  knowledge  concerning  some  great 
spiritual  mysteries  that  most  ])eople  only  speculate  about,  than 
he  has  yet  communicated  to  any  of  his  friends.  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  we  who  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  come 
within  the  compass  of  his  present  hospitality  are  likely  to  come 
also  within  the  range  of  more  important  information  than  he 
thought  fit  to  convey  to  any  of  his  friends  in  London.  It  is 
just  the  same  way  with  Professor  Massilton.  He  was  telling 
me  quite  recently  that  he  couldn't  put  his  finger  on  any  dis- 
tinctly new  idea  that  he  had  gathered  from  the  Baron,  but  he 
has  been  immensely  impressed  by  him,  and  Massilton  is  not  a 
man  to  be  hurriedly  enthusiastic  about  any  one.  He  has  powers 
of  discernment  and  penetration  that  always  make  me  feel,  when 
I  am  talking  with  him,  as  if  I  were  plodding  and  panting  after 
him  with  labour  and  difficulty." 

"  Nothing  very  wrong  with  your  wind  at  all  events,  Willy," 
said  the  Captain,  "if  you  can  talk  like  that  going  up  this 
hill." 

Blane  at  once  reproached  himself  for  monopolizing  the  con- 
versation, which  passed  for  a  time  on  to  a  lighter  range  of 
topics,  but  reverted  soon  afterwards  to  Professor  Massilton. 


28  EAfiMA. 

"  I  do  not  know  any  man,"  Blane  said,  "  who  could  be  regarded 
more  certainly  as  a  tower  of  strength  in  any  movement  with 
which  he  might  be  concerned.  And  I  know  that  Massilton 
himself  does  not  for  a  moment  regard  this  gathering  as  a  mere 
party  of  pleasure." 

"  No  doubt  about  it,"  admitted  the  Captain.  "  He's  a  man 
of  tremendous  ability." 

**  He  has  ability  and  energy  both  combined  in  the  highest 
degree  ;  wide  culture  and  a  facility  for  absorbing  fresh  informa- 
tion from  all  sides  at  once,  digesting  it  and  incorporating  it  with 
everything  else  he  knows,  which  distinguishes  him  from  all 
other  men  of  ability  that  I  ever  met.  If  you  were  to  throw  me 
a  dozen  balls  at  once  I  might  perhaps  catch  one,  but  if  you  were 
to  throw  them  to  Massilton  he  would  catch  them  all,  so  to 
speak.  The  fact  that  Massilton  is  of  this  party  is  one  of  the 
indications  to  me  that  Baron  von  Mondstem  has  some  serious 
objects  in  view." 

Merland  gave  Annerly  a  very  favourable  report  of  the  new 
arrival  when  they  got  back  to  the  castle. 

"  A  delightful  fellow  to  be  with.  Unassuming  to  quite  a 
comical  extent,  and  wholly  given  over  evidently  to  spiritual 
ideas.  One  can't  help  having  an  immense  respect  for  a  fellow 
like  that.  He's  very  well  off,  I  understand.  Has  means  of  his 
own,  that  make  him  quite  independent  of  any  profession,  and 
yet  devotes  himself  altogether  to  a  literary  and  intellectual  life. 
That's  a  better  thing  to  do,  Annerly,  isn't  it,  than  merely  larkiug 
about  and  amusing  one's  self  ? " 

"  The  higher  life  is  certainly  the  best.  That  is  merely  another 
way  of  putting  it ;  the  question  most  men  worry  themselves 
with,  is,  whether  it  is  the  happiest." 

"  Meeting  Blane  has  somehow  made  me  feel  as  if  it  would  be, 
inevitably ;  because  a  man  who  had  once  thoroughly  seen  his 
way  into  it  could  not  be  happy  in  any  other  and  lower  sort  of 
Ufe." 

Annerly  answered  at  once,  but  rather  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  had  already  thought  the  matter  out,  than  as  if  merely  throw- 
ing off  a  hasty  theory  of  the  moment, — 

"  I  do  not  think  a  man  who  wants  happiness  would  do  wisely 
to  pursue  it  consciously  along  the  paths  of  what  one  may  call  the 
higher  life,  that  is,  a  life  of  purely  intellectual  activity,  aiming 
at  some  exalted  purpose.     Directly  he  is  conscious  of  making  a 


PBOFESSOR   MASSILTON.  29 

choice  for  the  sake  of  happiness  he  will  ensure  himself  unhappi- 
ness  in  the  sacrifice  of  the  ordinary  human  moans  of  happiness, 
supposing  them  to  be  within  his  reach." 

]\f  erland  lighted  a  cigar  and  reflected  for  a  while,  arriving  then 
at  another  stage  of  the  problem. 

"That  woidd  cut  both  ways,  because,  if  a  man  chose  the 
lower  road  in  the  conscious  pursuit  of  happiness,  he  would  be 
sure  to  be  disgusted  with  himself  all  the  while,  and  consequently 
imhappy." 

*'  Yes,  if  his  road  were  on  a  very  low  level." 

"  I  feel  rather  as  if  I  were  beckoned  along  the  high  level, 
Annerly,  and  as  if  that  were  the  really  most  enjoyable  road  to 
travel,  too." 

"  I  think  you  will  travel  it,  Claude,  and  that  it  will  suit  you. 
I  mean  to  try  and  travel  it,  tliough  I  don't  think  it  will  suit  me. 
But  then  I  don't  think  any  road  would." 


CHAPTER  rV. 

FROFESSOR  MASSILTON. 


Thb  dinner  party  that  evening  at  the  castle  was  already  on  a 
fairly  considerable  scale.  The  arrival  of  the  Massilton  contingent 
in  the  course  of  the  afternoon  brought  up  the  total  number  to 
nine ;  while  the  Professor  and  Lady  Emily  Massilton  were  both 
people  who,  in  different  ways,  imposed  a  certain  importance  on 
the  gathering,  out  of  proportion  to  the  mere  accession  of  numbers. 
The  Professor  was  a  tall  man,  with  a  large  vigorous  frame  that 
corresponded  with  the  inexhaustible  energy  of  his  character.  He 
shaved  all  but  his  big  tawny  moustache  in  the  modem  fashion, 
and  the  natural  light  colour  of  this  made  the  streaks  of  grey 
hardly  noticeable.  His  complexion  was  clear  and  rather  florid, 
his  manner  blithe  and  joyous,  his  laugh  prompt  and  contagious, 
and  his  humour  free  and  effervescent.  By  virtue  of  the  force 
with  which  he  was  endowed  he  dominated  any  assembly  in 
which  he  took  part,  and  swept  others  along  in  the  current  of  hi* 


30  KARMA. 

exuberant  good  spirits  and  always  definite  purpose.  He  was 
more  than  well  off  in  the  world,  having  a  considerable  income 
from  a  fortune  which  imposed  no  territorial  duties  on  its  pos- 
sessor, and  this  may  have  contributed  to  account  for  his 
maniage  en  seconde  noceSj  a  few  years  after  the  death  of  his  first 
wife,  with  Lady  Emily,  who  was  quite  without  other  endow- 
ments than  those  inherent  in  her  plump,  attractive  little  person. 
Her  title,  derived  from  a  noble  family  more  richly  furnished 
with  representatives  than  acres,  gave  an  additional  charm,  of 
course,  to  her  personal  graces,  and  no  matrimonial  problem 
seemed  less  in  need  of  explanation  than  that  which  was  pre- 
sented by  her  union  with  the  rich  and  irresistible  Professor. 
They  had  been  married  at  the  period  with  which  we  are  con- 
cerned, for  seven  or  eight  years.  The  Professor  met  her  first  at 
a  foreign  embassy,  where  she  was  living  with  a  distinguished 
brother  in  the  diplomatic  service.  She  sufi'ered  herself,  willingly 
enough,  to  be  swept  away  into  the  swift  stream  of  his  rapidly- 
kindled  affections ;  too  confidently  assuming  that  an  enamoured 
husband  would  merely  be  one  more  guarantee  that  her  affairs 
thenceforward,  as  for  the  most  part  they  had  been  previously, 
would  be  arranged  to  suit  her  inclination. 

The  Professor  proved  enamoured  certainly,  but  he  also  was 
quite  unused  to  the  notion  that  the  current  of  his  life  could 
possibly  be  diverted  from  the  direction  in  which  he  destined  it 
to  move.  Lady  Emily  found  pleasure  in  fashionable  life,  relieved 
by  the  excitements  of  Continental  diplomacy.  The  Professor, 
a  little  weighed  down  in  his  first  marriage  by  a  wife  who,  with 
many  plain,  good  qualities,  had  not  been  capable  of  shining  in 
society,  now  desired  to  establish  a  house  which  should  be  the 
social  head-quarters  of  the  intellectual  life  of  the  university  to 
which  he  belonged.  General  society,  for  him,  was  interesting 
only  so  far  as  it  was  cover  frequented  by  agreeable  women.  Li 
it  he  had  secured  Lady  Emily.  If  she  could  have  remained,  as 
a  wife,  what  he  had  found  her  as  a  partner  in  flirtation,  he  would 
have  been  perfectly  content.  But  marriage  Lady  Emily  could 
only  regard  as  a  game  of  give  and  take.  For  absorption  in  her 
husband's  life,  for  adaptation  to  his  tastes,  she  had  no  aptitude. 
"When  divergence  of  interest  comes  in  at  the  matrimonial  door, 
love  is  driven  out  at  the  window  even  more  promptly  than  by 
poverty.  For  once  in  his  life  the  Professor  was  defeated.  The 
plan  of  his  marriage  could  not  be  realised.     Tou  may  take  a 


PEOFESSOB   MASSILTON.  81 

horse  to  the  water  and  so  on.  You  may  take  a  lady  to  a  uni- 
versity town,  but  you  cannot  make  her  lead  its  society  if  she 
won't.  Lady  Emily  was  a  good  deal  away.  The  Professor 
established  a  batchelor  pied-a-terre  in  London,  and  sought  once 
more  in  general  society  for  the  distractions  he  had  quite  honestly 
intended  to  concentrate  once  for  all  when  he  married.  Lady  Emily 
was  aware  that  it  behoved  her  to  be  careful,  but  she  was  careful ; 
and  it  would  sometimes  happen,  as  in  the  case  before  us,  that 
Professor  and  Lady  Emily  Massilton  accepted  an  invitation 
together. 

They  all  arrived  at  the  castle  in  capital  spirits.  There  was  a 
long  driving-road  up  the  Heiligenberg — as  the  whole  hill  was 
called — winding  by  a  very  long  circuit  up  to  within  a  hundred  or 
hundred  and  fitty  feet  of  the  castle-gateway,  but  in  coming  from 
the  station  in  the  open  carriage  Captain  Miller  had  engaged,  they 
passed  one  of  the  footpaths  leading  up  by  a  more  direct  route.  A 
finger-post  showed  that  it  led  to  Heiligenfels,  and  the  Professor 
impetuously  called  a  halt. 

"  Stop,  Miller  !  Let's  walk  up.  Those  two  horses  can't  pull 
us  up  this  mountain.  Who'll  come  too  1 "  And  the  Professor, 
opening  the  door  of  the  landau,  swung  himself  out  without 
waiting  for  the  steps,  and  then  rattled  them  open.  "  Who's 
coming  %  Come  along,  Miss  Blane,"  and  the  girl  jumped  out 
with  the  help  of  the  Professor's  hand,  without  waiting  for  a 
second  invitation. 

"  Good-bye ;  we'll  tell  Mrs.  Miller  you're  coming,"  said  Lady 
Emily.  "  I'm  about  as  likely  to  scramble  up  those  rocks  as  to 
drag  the  carriage,  and  you  must  stop,  Sir  John,  to  take  care  of 
me.  Now  there'll  be  a  place  for  you  in  here.  Captain  Miller." 
(The  Captain  had  been  on  the  box  hitherto,  beside  the  driver.) 

"It  isn't  a  nice  path.  Professor,'*  said  the  Captain,  falling  in 
with  this  arrangement  after  a  few  moments'  hesitation. 

"  Get  along  with  you  1 "  cried  the  Professor.  "  We're  two 
able-bodied  people.  Miss  Blane  and  I,  and  could  get  up  the 
Matterhom  if  we  liked.  Wouldn't  you  enjoy  a  scramble,  Miss 
Blane,  after  all  that  sitting  in  the  train  1 " 

Miss  Blane  joyfully  agreed.  She  was  a  slightly-made 
graceful  girl  about  ten  years  younger  than  her  brother,  with 
dark  hair  and  large  dark  eyes,  a  slightly  southern  tinge  in  her 
complexion,  a  regular  oval  face,  but  with  features  a  little  too 
heavy,  if  criticised  in  em  unsympathetic  feminine  spirit,  though 


32  KARMA. 

the  general  effect  was  one  that  men  were  usually  ready  to 
admire. 

The  Professor  sprang  forward  into  the  woods  with  a  merry 
light-hearted  **  whoop,"  calling  on  Miss  Blane  that  he  would 
show  her  the  way,  and  thoy  were  lost  to  sight  almost  before  the 
carriage  was  again  in  motion.  The  path  only  justified  the 
Captain's  disparaging  remark  in  having  a  few  rocky  places  up 
which  the  Professor  considered  that  the  young  lady  required  a 
great  deal  of  help,  and  one  or  two  wet  ones,  that  he  carried  her 
across  to  save  her  shoes,  with  no  more  hesitation  than  if  she 
had  been  a  child.  He  had  a  free,  unembarrassed  manner  in 
little  emergencies  of  that  sort  which  drove  all  difficulties  before 
it,  and  a  fatherly  way  with  girls,  too,  that  gave  him  privileges 
younger  men  might  have  been  too  timid  to  claim. 

"  Why,  you're  such  a  featherweight,  I  could  have  won  you 
easily  if  I'd  been  the  knight  in  the  German  story  that  had  to 
carry  his  lady-love  to  the  hill-top ;"  and  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word  he  ran  with  her  a  few  steps  up  the  path  after  it  had 
crossed  one  of  the  wot  places,  and  sat  her  down  on  a  big  stone. 
He  had  been  telling  good  stories  and  makiuL^  jokes  in  the  train 
all  the  way  from  Cologne,  and  Miss  Blane  liad  never  spent  a 
more  delightful  morning. 

In  the  evening  at  dinner,  however,  he  flung  himself  with  no 
less  ardour  into  the  consideration  of  the  plans  which  lay  before 
Mrs.  Miller's  friends.  Some  reference  had  been  made  to 
literary  stores  Mrs.  Miller  had  accumulated. 

"  I  will  look  into  any  books  that  I  have  not  read,"  said  the 
Professor,  "  and  read  them  if  I  find  them  in  the  least  degiee 
worth  reading.  But  first  I  believe  I  have  read  all  that  are 
worth  reading  on  psychic  inquiry  of  all  sorts,  or,  if  not,  at  any 
rate  I  have  read  good  representative  books  in  every  branch  of 
the  sul)ject.  Now,  with  all  respect  to  Mrs.  Miller's  cargo  of 
literature,  I  am  not  going  to  waste  my  time  in  poring  over  the 
writings  of  men  who  do  not  know  more  than  I  do  myself." 

"  I'm  conscious  of  knowing  so  little  myself,"  said  Blane, 
**  that  a  book  must  be  a  bad  book  indeed  if  I  can't  learn  some- 
thing from  it,  but  I  quite  agree  with  the  Professor  that  wo 
•ught  to  do  more  than  read." 

"  C«rtainly,"  put  in  Lady  Emily ;  "  if  we  do  nothing  else,  w© 
might  be  a  little  dull." 

"We  can  always  talk  over  what  we  read,"  suggested  Mrs.  Miller. 


PROFESSOR   MAS8ILT0N.  83 

*•  My  dear  lady,"  said  the  Professor,  "  we  hare  got  to  break 
fresh  ground.  We  have  got  to  take  some  step  worthy  of  thii 
interesting  occasion  and  of  this  enchanting  old  castle,  worthy 
also  of  our  distinguished  hostess  and  of  our  yet  absent  host." 

"  I  cordially  endorse  that,"  said  Blane. 

"  And  witli  all  due  respect  to  every  one  present  I  do  not  think 
that  any  of  us  round  this  table  can  give  any  other  one  any  help 
at  all  worth  speaking  of  towards  enlarging  his  comprehension 
of  the  great  psychic  mysteries  we  are  all  dabbling  in  at  the 
edges.  We  want  a  pilot,  who  knows  the  strange  waters  better 
than  we  do  ourselves,  to  show  us  the  way  about  them.  Now 
who  is  to  be  our  pilot  1 " 

"  I  do  not  think  we  are  likely,"  said  Blane,  "  to  have  much 
doubt  on  that  score." 

'*  Blane  evidently  sees  the  matter  in  the  same  light  that  I  do. 
The  only  pilot  we  can  think  of  engaging  for  this  trip  is  our 
dear  friend  the  Baron.  What  we  have  to  do,  it  seems  to  me,  is 
to  put  the  matter  in  that  light  before  him  as  soon  as  he  comes. 
I  do  not  definitely  know  how  far  the  Baron's  researches  in  psychic 
or  mystic  or  occult  sciences,  call  them  whatever  you  like,  may 
have  carried  him ;  but  I  am  quite  sure,  or  at  all  events  I  believe 
at  present,  with  great  confid<^nce,  that  he  has  somehow  and 
somewhere  got  behind  some  secrets  of  Nature  that  remain 
insoluble  enigmas  for  most  of  us.  In  a  variety  of  ways  we 
have  come  to  be  aware  that  the  door  is  not  so  closely  shut 
against  us  in  regard  to  inquiries  transcending  the  purely 
physical  relations  of  molecules  with  one  another,  as  the  last 
generation  of  physical  inquirers  seem  to  have  imagined — " 

*'  But  look  at  the  way  they  still  go  on,"  began  Mrs.  Miller, 
but  the  Professor,  spreading  both  hands  a  little  above  the  table, 
stopped  her  with  a  genial  and  cheery  smile. 

"  Pardon  me,  my  dear  lady,  for  one  moment  more.  I  have 
merely  so  far  drawn  your  attention  to  the  general  state  of  the 
facts,  as  I  apprehend  them.  I  want  to  point  out,  while  these 
considerations  are  still  before  you,  how  they  ought  to  guide  us 
in  dealing  with  subjects  we  have  been  practically  invited  here 
to  consider.  Now  our  assemblage  here  will  have  had  no  mean- 
ing or  purpose  in  it  at  all,  unless  it  furnishes  us  with  a  new 
clue  to  the  inquiries  of  the  kind  I  have  referred  to.  Therefore, 
I  think  we  are  entitled  to  go  to  the  Baron  when  he  arrives  here 
and  say  that,  over  and  above  the  delightful  hospitality  he  is 

D 


84  KJIBMA. 

showing  us,  we  have  divined  that  he  has  some  information  of 
real  moment  to  impart  to  us — that  we  do  not  want  to  lose  any 
time  that  may  be  so  precious  as  that  we  spend  here — and  that 
we  beg  him  therefore  to  be  open  and  explicit  with  us  at  once, 
instead  of  leaving  us  to  wander  about  blindly  in  futile  reading 
or  equally  futile  conversation.  Now  I  will  ask  Mr.  Blane  to 
say  whether  I  have  expressed  views  with  which  he  concurs." 

"  Eeally — "  Blane  began  to  protest  on  being  thus  directly 
appealed  to,  "  my  views  on  all  these  subjects  are  so  shadowy." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  interrupted  the  Professor,  "  we  can  none 
of  us  have  any  other  but  shadowy  views  of  the  suhject  at  large, 
but  we  may  have  clear  views  of  what  we  are  going  to  do  next 
in  connection  with  its  study." 

"  Quite  true,  and  you  have  given  the  most  satisfactory  expres- 
sion to  the  views  on  that  point  that  no  doubt  we  all  hold.  I 
would  only  venture  to  qualify  what  you  say,  by  suggesting  that 
we  should  not,  as  it  were,  too  precipitately  take  our  host  by  the 
throat  and  demand  his  knowledge  or  his  life." 

"We  might  let  him  have  some  lunch  first,"  said  Captain 
Miller,  *'  or  some  dinner  if  he  turns  up  late  in  the  day." 

**  I  will  undertake,"  said  the  Professor,  "  if  I  give  expression 
to  our  wishes  in  this  matter,  that  all  reasonable  concessions  of 
that  kind  shall  be  made.  I  am  only  anxious  that  we  shall  not 
squander  our  time  in  the  beginning  of  this  session  of  ours  as  if 
we  were  a  House  of  Commons,  and  find  ourselves  with  none  at 
the  end,  when  we  have  settled  down  to  real  work." 

Lady  Emily,  sitting  between  Captain  Miller  and  Mr.  Merland, 
began  to  talk  to  her  right-hand  neighbour,  Merland,  at  this 
point ;  and  Mrs.  Miller  broke  loose  from  the  restraint  the 
Professor  had  imposed  on  the  table  for  a  time,  and  expounded 
some  of  her  own  opinions  to  Sir  John  Hexton ;  so  the  conversa- 
tion became  confused. 


CHAPTER  y. 

A  VISIT  TO   THE  DUNGEONS. 


Thb  evening  was  fine  and  warm  enough  after  dinner  for  walking 
about  in  the  open  air,  and  the  smokei-s  of  the  party  went  up  to 


A   VISIT  TO  THE   DUNGEONS,  85 

the  roof  of  the  castle,  at  Captain  Jem's  suggestion,  to  enjoy 
their  cigars,  and  the  refreshing  air,  and  the  moonlight  view  of 
the  river,  all  at  once.  Others  established  themselves  in  the 
gi'and  hall — the  regular  drawing-room  of  the  modernised  build- 
ing— or  organised  little  bands  of  exploration  about  the  mysterious 
corridors,  staircases,  and  towers,  made  all  the  more  exciting  and 
interesting  by  the  night-time  and  the  darkness,  but  partially 
relieved  by  the  lights  they  carried.  Annerly  and  Merland 
escorted  Miss  Blane  about  in  one  such  expedition,  carrying 
chamber-candles. 

"  We're  going  to  look  at  the  dungeons,  Mrs.  Miller,"  the 
young  lady  explained,  as  they  got  up  to  leave  the  drawing-room. 

**  You  silly  girl !  you'll  be  frightened.  What  unwholesome 
curiosity  at  this  time  in  the  evening." 

"  The  ghosts  won't  attack  us  three  abreast,"  said  Merland,  as 
they  went  round  the  corner  rooms,  and  back  through  the  dining- 
hall  again,  where  the  servants  were  still  clearing  away  the  last 
of  the  dinner-things.  From  the  butler  they  got  candles,  and 
passed  on  through  other  corner  rooms  and  passages  to  the  land- 
ward side  of  the  building.  The  floor,  on  a  level  with  the 
dining-haU  in  this  part  of  the  castle,  had  been  restored,  like  the 
rest  of  the  place,  but  was  not  monopolised  by  one  great  room, 
like  so  much  of  the  space  in  the  other  two  sides,  beiug  partly 
given  over  to  the  servants'  and  other  offices.  The  lower  floor, 
however — for  the  rock  on  which  the  castle  stood  sloped  away 
on  this  side,  so  that  there  was  room  here  for  a  lower  floor — was 
unsuited  to  modem  habitation,  and  was  only  partly  made  avail- 
able for  store-rooms.  From  one  of  these,  a  steep  stone  stair 
wound  down  to  lower  regions  again.  The  pitchy  darkness  into 
which  these  stairs  disappeared  did  not  look  inviting,  and  Miss 
Blane  declared  her  thirst  for  knowledge  in  that  direction  already 
satisfied. 

"  What  demons  they  must  have  been  1 "  she  said  with  a 
shudder.  "  Imagine  driving  an  unfortunate  prisoner  down  there 
and  locking  him  up  somewhere  below  in  that  horrid  darkness. 
I  never  thought  of  that  before  about  such  places,  but  of  course 
they  must  have  been  pitch-dark  at  night  It  isn't  likely  they 
gave  the  prisoners  night-lights." 

"  In  the  night  and  in  the  day  time  too,"  said  Annerly,  "  in 
some  cases.  I've  seen  dungeons  in  some  of  tliese  old  places 
about  Germany  that  have  been  simply  dry  weUs,  and  not  very 

s  2 


36  KABMA. 

dry  always  *  at  that,'  as  the  Americans  say.  And  then  the  upper 
floor  of  the  same  tower,  when  there  are  such  places  below  ground, 
you  will  sometimes  find  to  have  been  the  lord  of  the  castle's  bed- 
room. That's  about  the  grimmest  touch  of  all,  because  the 
uppermost  man  in  that  case  must  have  had  such  a  vivid  con- 
sciousness of  the  horrible  fate  of  the  man  he  was  keeping  under- 
most." 

"  I  wonder  if  any  unfortunate  woman  was  ever  thrust  down 
there,"  said  Miss  Blane. 

**  I  think  it  is  of  this  castle  in  a  book  of  Rhine  legends  I  read," 
Annerly  answered,  "  that  they  tell  a  story  about  a  grafin,  whose 
name  I  forget,  who  beguiled  her  sister  into  an  underground 
dungeon  to  keep  her  out  of  the  way  of  a  knight  she  was  in  love 
with  herself.  She  thought  the  knight  would  be  unfaithful  to 
her  if  he  saw  the  sister,  who  was  more  beautiful.  But  there 
were  some  other  complications,  and  the  knight  suddenly  carried 
her  off  one  evening.  She  was  quite  willing  to  go,  but  she  would 
have  liked  to  release  her  sister  first.  But  there  was  no  time, 
and  it  was  a  little  matter  she  did  not  like  to  mention  to  her  new 
husband,  so  she  said  nothing — " 

"  Ugh  !     The  horror  of  it ! "  said  Miss  Blane. 

"  Suppose  we  give  the  story  a  happy  ending,"  said  Annerly. 
"The  father  knight  going  down  to  the  dungeons  to  lock  up  some 
ordinary  prisoners  in  the  way  of  business  finds  the  beautiful 
damsel  and  rescues  her,  and  the  other  knight's  first  wife  dies 
young  of  remorse,  and  he  marries  the  more  beautiful  sister, 
en  secondes  noces,  difficulties  about  deceased  wives'  sisters  not 
having  arisen  in  those  days." 

"  But  that  was  not  the  true  end  to  the  story,  I'm  sure,  by  the 
way  you  stopped." 

"  The  other  end  might  suit  to-morrow  morning  and  the  sun- 
light better." 

"I  want  to  be  treated  honestly  and  not  like  a  child.  It 
makes  my  blood  run  cold,  but  I  must  have  the  truth." 

"  Well,  the  happy  sister,  if  there  is  much  room  to  choose 
between  the  two,  the  one  who  married  the  knight,  did  die  young 
— so  says  the  legend ;  but  it  was  only  then  that  the  ugly  story 
came  out,  partly  by  confession  on  her  death-bed  and  partly  that 
her  ghost  haunted  a  certain  dungeon  and  moaned  there  so  fright- 
fully that  the  people  of  the  castle  had  to  get  a  posse  of  pn^.^ts 
to  exorcise  the  place,  and  then  they  found  the  bones  and  some 


1.   VISIT   TO   THE   DONQEONS.  37 

ornaments  that  had  belonged  to  the  other  sister  down  away  in 
the  dungeon." 

"  What  a  ghastly  story !  But  Fm  sure  It  was  some  other 
dungeon  miles  away  from  Heiligenfels." 

*'  I  remember  it  said  that  there  wais  a  cross  set  up  in  the 
dimgeon  where  the  bones  were  found.  Shall  we  go  down  and 
see  if  there  is  a  cross  to  be  found  down  there  1 " 

"  We'll  think  about  that  to-morrow,  thank  you,"  said  Miss 
Blane.  "  I  should  be  glad  to  be  sure  there  is  no  cross  there, 
but  I  can  wait  patiently." 

"  No  need  to  wait  long,"  said  Annerly,  "  I'll  soon  find  out 
that  much  for  you  ;"  and,  candle  in  hand,  he  began  to  go  down 
the  stone  stairs. 

"  Good  giacious,  Mr.  Annerly,  don't  do  anything  so  foolish." 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Annerly ;  "  Mr.  Merland  will  take  care  of 
you  for  a  few  minutes." 

"  What  nerves  he  must  have.  It  would  send  me  crazy  if  I 
tried  to  go  down  there  alone  now." 

"  Annerly  hasn't  any  sense  of  fear  about  that  sort  of  thing — 
I've  noticed  that  once  or  twice  before,"  Merland  said.  "  When 
we  were  traveUing  in  Egypt,  and  had  camped  out  to  be  near  the 
Pyramids  at  daybreak,  our  friend  there  was  seized  with  the 
whim  that  he  would  spend  the  night  alone,  inside,  and  he  did 
so,  though  the  Arabs  would  not  venture  into  any  of  the  inner 
chambers  after  nightfall  for  a  fortune." 

"  I  think  that  sort  of  thing  wants  more  bravery  than  going 
into  battle." 

"  A  different  kind  of  pluck,  anyway.  Lots  of  feUows  would 
face  the  chance  of  being  shot  with  perfect  coolness  who  would 
be  horribly  uncomfortable  alone  at  night  in  a  pyramid.  And, 
indeed,  I  think  the  moral  pluck  that  makes  a  man  quite  ready 
to  face  what  people  call  the  supernatural  is  the  higher  sort  of 
the  two,  and  includes  the  other.  Annerly,  of  course,  is  not  big 
and  strong,  and  there  are  lots  of  things  that  men  have  got  the 
Victoria  Cross  for—  things  he  couldn't  do.  But  take  anything 
within  the  limits  of  his  physical  powers,  like  going  to  screw  the 
powder-bags  on  to  the  Cashmere  Gate  at  Delhi,  for  instance,  and 
I  would  back  Annerly  to  do  a  thing  of  that  sort  against  anybody." 

"  What  a  distance  down  that  dreadful  place  must  be  !  What 
can  have  become  of  Hini  f  You  oan't  hear  him  or  see  the  light 
•tall." 


88  KARMA. 

"  A  candle  doesn't  carry  far  in  such  deep  darkness.  But  It 
must  be  a  long  flight  of  steps  by  the  time  we  did  hear  him.  If 
I  have  to  go  in  search  of  him  you'll  have  to  go  up  to  brighter 
regions,  Miss  Blane." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  best  to  call  somebody,  it's  getting  very 
creepy  here  1 " 

*'  Give  him  a  bit  longer."  Merland  drew  near  to  the  edge  of 
the  black  gulf,  and,  after  waiting  and  listening  a  little  while, 
called  down,  though  in  a  somewhat  subdued  voice,  for  fear  of 
raising  an  alarm  above.     "  Are  you  all  right,  old  man  1 " 

No  answer  came  that  time,  and  Miss  Blane  was  beginning  to 
be  more  nervous  than  she  liked  to  own,  when  Merland  cried  to 
her  that  he  heard  a  step  below.  After  a  little  while  longer 
Annerly's  slightly  uneven  tread  on  the  stair  was  definitely 
recognisable,  and  then  he  answered  Merland, — 

"  Yes,  this  is  the  old  original  Annerly,  I'm  sorry  to  say, 
quite  unchanged."  Then,  emerging  from  the  darkness  at  last, 
"  There  are  lots  of  holes  and  corners  down  there  ;  but  in  one  of 
them,  at  all  events,  I  can  guarantee  the  existence  of  a  stone 
cross,  Miss  Blane." 

"  I'm  very  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said  the  young  lady.  "  Now 
let's  go  back  at  once.  We've  been  poking  about  here  quite  long 
enough.  I'm  glad  I'm  not  to  sleep  in  this  wing  of  the  castle, 
anyhow." 

"  Did  you  see  anything  uncanny  down  there,  Geordie  ] "  asked 
Merland. 

Annerly  did  not  answer  at  the  moment  He  looked  surprised 
and  startled,  but  after  a  brief  pause  he  said, — 

"  Down  there  ?  No,  certainly  not.  Besides,  Pm  not  good  at 
seeing  uncanny  things.  People  who  see  strange  things  must 
always  learn  to  see  in  the  dark  uncommonly  well  first,  or  they 
may  jump  to  hasty  conclusions." 

"  But  do  you  mean,"  said  Miss  Blane,  as  they  got  up  the 
stairs  from  the  store-room  into  the  more  modernised  floor  above, 
*'  that  you  ever  think  you  see  things  that  are  not  natural  1 

"  Natural  1  Well,  if  I  thought  I  saw  anything,  I  should 
think  it  was  natural — even  if  I  saw  what  people  call  a  ghost. 
A  thing  may  not  be  out  of  the  course  of  Nature  even  if  it  is  very 
unusual.  But  one  may  have  an  impression  that  one  sees  some- 
thing, and  there  may  be  nothing  to  see  all  the  while.  An 
impression  of  that  aoH  ia  neither  natural  nor  supernatural,  it 


A   VISIT  TO  THE    DUNGEONS.  89 

seema  to  me.     It  is  nothing  at  all.     It  lies  altogether  within 
one's  own  fancy." 

Miss  Blaue,  however,  was  more  inclined  to  get  back  to  the 
well-lighted  drawing-room  just  then  than  to  follow  up  meta- 
physical conversation.  Mrs.  Miller  called  out  with  surprise 
when  they  got  back, — 

*'  My  dear  child,  what  a  colour  you've  turned !  What  on 
earth  have  you  been  about  ? " 

"  We've  been  down  among  the  dungeons,  and  talking  all 
manner  of  horrors.     Do  I  look  pale  ?     How  absurd  of  me  I  " 

'*  Have  a  glass  of  seltzer-water,  Miss  Blane,"  said  Merland, 
"with  just  the  least  flavour  of  something  refreshing  in  it." 

"  Or  tea,"  proposed  Mrs.  Miller.  "  Here's  tea  still  quite  hot 
on  that  side-table,  waiting  for  the  return  of  the  smokers." 

Of  course  the  explorers  were  minutely  questioned  as  to  all 
they  had  done. 

Then  the  Professor  and  others  returned  from  the  castle-roof, 
loud  in  praise  of  moonlight  effects  on  the  river.  Lady  Emily, 
who  had  a  Continental  taste  for  cards,  had  a  preliminary  skirmish 
with  Sir  John  Hexton  at  ecarte,  and  then  pressed  Mr.  Blane 
and  Captain  Miller  into  her  service  to  make  up  a  rubber.  Miss 
Blane  had  recovered  her  usual  good  spirits  under  the  influence 
of  the  Professor,  who  devoted  himself  to  her  restoration  when 
he  heard  what  had  occurred,  and  insisted  on  a  course  of  cat's- 
cradle  as  the  proper  remedy  under  the  circumstances.  Nothing 
would  dissuade  him  from  this ;  and  Lady  Emily's  suggestion, 
as  an  amendment,  that  they  should  send  for  a  horse-collar  for 
him  to  grin  through  instead,  did  not  turn  him  for  a  moment 
from  his  resolute  demand  for  string. 

"Perhaps  the  horse-collar  would  be  more  amusing  for  others, 
my  dear  ;  I  do  not  deny  that  for  a  moment  But  the  cat's-cradle 
will  be  more  beneficial  to  Miss  Blane,  and  we  have  to  consider 
her  just  now,  after  all  she  has  gone  through-  We'll  go  to  a 
distant  corner,  Miss  Blane,  where  we  shall  not  disturb  the 
whist-players." 

The  short  evening  was  waning  away,  and  the  time  that  had 
been  talked  of  for  a  general  dispersion  was  close  at  hand,  when 
Annerly  contrived  to  say  a  few  words,  unheard  by  others,  to 
Mrs.  Miller. 

"Would  you  mind  coming  into  the  library  for  a  minute, 
Mrs.  Miller !    I  want  to  say  something  to  you." 
4 


40  KAEMA. 

Under  cover  of  getting  him  a  book,  Mrs.  Miller,  much 
mystified,  took  Annerly  off  in  the  required  direction. 

"  I've  had  an  odd  impression  this  evening,  Mrs.  Miller,"  he 
explained.  "  I've  been  unwilling  to  speak  of  it ;  but  I  can't 
feel  justified  in  not  doing  so.  It  may  be  all  nonsense ;  and 
perhaps  you  wiU  be  able  to  show  that  it  is.  But  to  see  if  it  ia, 
I  must  ask  you  a  question,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"  Certainly." 

"  Is  the  bedroom  you  have  allotted  to  Miss  Blane  a  room 
hung  with  a  sort  of  white  and  red  flowered  chintz,  or  some  such 
stuff,  with  a  red  carpet  ? " 

"  Yes." 

**  And  does  the  bed  stand  in  a  comer  of  the  room,  with  a 
writing-table  near  it,  and  a  fireplace  in  this  way,  on  the  left-hand 
side  1 " 

"  Yes.  Did  you  see  the  room  when  you  were  going  over  the 
castle  yesterday  t  It's  on  the  upper  floor,  in  the  dining-room 
wing." 

"  It's  very  curious.  No ;  I  have  not  seen  the  room — not  in 
the  ordinary  way  at  least.  But — you  know  you  asked  me 
yesterday,  Mrs.  Miller,  if  I  was  clairvoyant.  I  should  never 
venture  to  claim  any  such  faculty  on  the  strength  of  the  few  odd 
impressions  I  have  sometimes  had ;  but  just  this  evening,  while 
we  were  downstairs,  Miss  Blane  said  something  about  being 
glad  her  room  was  a  long  way  off  the  dungeon-tower ;  and  at 
that  moment  I  had  a  sudden  flash  as  it  were  of  perception,  that 
I  cannot  easily  describe,  of  just  such  a  room  as  you  now  say  ifl 
really  hers ;  and  of  some  serious  accident  happening  to  her  there. 
If  another  person  was  not  so  closely  concerned  with  this  impres- 
sion, you  may  imagine  how  little  likely  it  is  that  I  should  have 
spoken  of  it.  It  is  very  disagreeable  to  me  to  do  so — I  am  so 
very  slow  always  to  attach  weight  to  impressions  of  this  sort ; 
but  I  have  been  thinking  it  over  ever  since,  and  I  have  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  I  would  teU  you  how  the  matter  stands.  If 
you  think  that  without  alarming  Miss  Blane  you  can  put  her  to 
sleep  in  some  other  room,  there  would  be  no  great  harm  done, 
and  if  we  get  no  clue  to  my  impression  the  worst  of  the  matter 
will  be  that  I  shall  seem  to  have  been  a  great  donkey." 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  All  her  things  are  there  and  unpacked 
of  course.  But  I  wouldn't  like  to  go  against  a  warning  of  that 
Bort.     Shall  we  consult  anybody — the  Professor,  for  instance!" 


OONYIOTBD   OF   OLAIHVOYANOB,  41 

"  I  should  greatly  prefer  you  did  not,  if  you  can  find  any 
excuse  for  moving  Miss  Blane." 

*'  I  tell  you  what  I  can  do — I  can  get  Jem  to  sleep  in  his 
dressini^j-room,  and  insist  upon  her  spending  the  night  with  me 
after  she  has  been  frightened  with  your  stories  in  the  dungeons." 

*'  Admirably  thought  of  1  Then  what's  to  be  done  to-morrow  1 
It's  such  a  vague  kind  of  warning.  I  tell  you  I'm  ashamed  of 
saying  this  to  you,  and  yet  I  should  be  more  ashamed  of  remaining 
silent.  We  have  talked  over  all  these  subjects  sufficiently  to  be 
familiar  with  the  fact  that  warnings  of  this  kind  do  sometimes 
prove  to  have  been  important.  That  consciousness  may  of  course 
make  one  all  the  more  liable  to  be  a  prey  to  delusions  and 
fancies ;  but  still  in  this  case  I  seem  to  have  had  a  correct 
perception  of  what  the  room  is  like,  and  I  have  certainly  never 
been  in  the  room  ~" 

"  We  can't  disregard  it,  Mr.  Annerly,  that's  clear ;  but  won't 
it  be  best  to  speak  of  it  to  some  of  the  people  1  It  will  be  such 
a  wonderful  thing  if  it  does  really  turn  out  that  we  are  keeping 
Miss  Blane  out  of  the  way  of  some  danger." 

"  I  would  so  much  rather  keep  the  matter  to  ourselves  for  the 
present." 

*'  Well,  you  must  decide  that  of  course." 

When  they  went  back  to  the  drawing-room  the  catVcradle 
was  over,  and  the  Professor,  feeling  Miss  Blane's  pulse,  declared 
her  quite  convalescent.  But  Mrs.  Miller  found  her  in  no  way 
reluctant  to  fall  in  with  the  arrangement  she  then  suggested ; 
which  Captain  Jem,  as  soon  as  he  realised  that  he  was  to  incur 
a  little  discomfort  for  the  sake  of  some  one  else,  warmly  seconded 
and  approved  of.  He  declared  that  a  night  in  a  dressing-room 
by  himself,  where  he  could  smoke  cigarettes  in  bed,  was  the  one 
luxury  he  enjoyed  above  all  others. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OONVIOTBD    OP   OLAIRVOYANOl. 

SoMl  of  the  party  assembled  for  breakfast  in  the  dinfng-hall 
next  morning,  though  the  meal  was  not  fixed  for  a  general 
muster  at  any  given  hour.  Annerly  wore  a  hang-dog  and 
dejected  look.      Miss  Blane  was  bright  and  cheerful.      Mis* 


42  KABMA. 

Miller  a  little  disconcerted,  the  failure  of  any  disturbance  during 
the  night  that  might  have  justified  her  precautions  having  left 
her  inclined  to  resent  the  "  warning."  The  Professor,  always 
an  early  riser,  had  been  already  out  in  the  woods,  and  these 
four  breakfasted  together. 

"  I  took  one  of  your  books  up  to  bed  with  me  last  night, 
Mrs.  Miller — one  I  had  not  read  before,"  mentioning  its  title, 
**  and  I  read  it." 

"  Goodness,  Professor  Massilton !  Why,  it  would  take  you 
days." 

"  If  you  don't  believe  me,  you  can  examine  me  in  the  book. 
I  do  not  mean  that  I  read  every  word,  but  I  read  fast,  and  I 
will  undertake  to  say  that  I  missed  no  idea  the  book  contains. 
Well,  by  the  time  you  have  got  out  all  the  ideas  it  contains, 
and  have  reduced  them  to  their  simplest  terms,  they  just 
amount  to  this  and  nothing  more  :  '  Be  virtuous  and  you  will 
be  happy.'  Now  what  is  the  use  of  preaching  a  new  religion  to 
tell  us  that  1  So  far  as  the  rule  is  true  it  is  a  very  old  rule,  but 
I  think  it  is  open  to  grave  criticisuL  It  is  not  the  fact  that  all 
the  people  who  are  virtuous  are  happy,  and  still  less  is  it  the 
case  that  happiness  bears  any  quantitative  relation  to  virtue.  I, 
for  instance,  am  not  desperately  wicked,  but  I  am  immensely 
happier  than  I  have  any  right  to  be  on  the  strength  of  my 
virtue.  And  certainly  there  are  hundreds  and  thousands  of 
people  much  better  than  I,  much  more  virtuous,  who  are  much 
less  happy.  Virtue  may  have  something  to  do  with  happiness 
for  some  people,  but  it  is  not  the  principal  factor  in  the  matter 
for  most." 

"  That  would  be  a  dangerous  maxim  to  preach  at  all  events." 

"Dangerous  as  regards  the  multitude,  who  were  chiefly 
thought  of  evidently  when  the  early  maxims  of  morality  were 
first  set  on  foot.  But  if  people  engaged  in  investigating 
spiritual  science  over  the  heads  of  early  religious  generalities 
addressed  to  the  multitude,  cannot  work  out  something  fresher 
than  that,  it  is  of  no  mse  to  address  the  world  on  the  subject  of 
their  discoveries.  They  have  discovered  nothing  if  they  only 
discover  what  we  knew  before ;  and  if  they  merely  re-discover 
an  old  generalisation  that  is  inaccurate  when  closely  looked 
into,  they  have  discovered  less  than  nothing.  They  have 
betrayed  the  fact  that  they  are  not  on  new  lines  of  investigation 
at  all" 


OONVIOTED  OF  OLAIBVOTAKOB.         43 

••I  don't  agree  with  you,  Professor  Massilton,"  said  Mrs. 
Miller,  gallantly  standing  to  her  guns  on  behalf  of  a  favourite 
author.  *'  Spiritualists  may  find  out  that  the  most  exalted 
spirits  repeat  some  of  the  established  religious  doctrines,  but 
they  give  it  us  with  a  great  deal  more  detail  and  explanation 
than  we  had  before." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Miller,  when  you  pick  what  they  say  to 
pieces,  you  find  that  the  explanation  is  a  mock  explanation,  and 
the  detail,  mere  cloudiness  of  periphrasis.  Explanation  would 
really  be  this  :  the  exhibition  to  our  minds  of  the  forces  at 
work  by  means  of  which  virtue  operates  to  produce  happiness. 
No  one  yet,  however,  has  the  glimmering  of  an  idea  of  what 
that  force  is,  even  supposing  it  is  really  operative,  which  the 
experience  of  life  all  around  us,  I  maintain,  does  not  go  to 
prove,  but  quite  the  reverse." 

"The  experience  of  life  may  not  be  enough  to  prove  it. 
The  spirits  may  be  able  to  give  us  the  experience  of  another  life 
too,  and  then  they  say  it  is  proved." 

"If  they  were  to  say  it,  we  should  have  ground  for  dis- 
believing them.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  any  respectable, 
well-disposed  spirit  can  remain  indifferent  to  the  misery  of 
people  it  loves  on  earth  1  While  if  it,  or  he,  or  she — one  does 
not  know  what  pronoun  to  give  a  spirit — suffers  in  spirit-life 
from  events  here  over  which  its  own  virtues  or  vices  have  no 
influence  whatever,  how  can  you  make  it  out  that  the  spirit's 
happiness  is  the  consequences  of  virtue  1 " 

Miss  Blane  made  a  diversion  in  the  conversation  shortly 
after  this  by  declaring  that  she  thought  it  ought  to  be  a  rule  at 
the  castle  to  have  no  metaphysics  talked  before  lunch.  This 
set  the  Professor  off  on  another  tack.  Captain  Miller  dropped 
in  presently  with  Merland,  who  had  been  out  for  a  stroll  with 
him,  and  then  some  plans  were  made  for  the  morning,  which 
inchided  a  walk.     Miss  Blane  went  to  prepare  for  this. 

Mrs.  Miller  found  an  opportunity  of  asking  Mr.  Annerly, 
aside,  if  he  had  been  having  any  more  impressions.  Annerly 
was  apologetic  and  miserable. 

"  I  have  had  another  impression — yes,  Mrs.  Miller,  a  very 
strong  one — namely,  that  I  made  a  fool  of  myself  last  night, 
and  gave  you  and  others  a  great  deal  of  most  unnecessary 
trouble." 

Mis.  Miller  began  to  speak  of  the  question  raised  the  previous 


44  KABMA. 

evening — whether  any  attempt  should  be  made  to  re-arrange 
rooms,  or  whether  the  warning  might  now  be  disregarded,  when 
Miss  Blane  returned — without  having  waited  to  get  ready  for 
her  walk. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Miller,  there's  a  lot  of  the  ceiling  fallen  down  in 
my  room.     It's  lying  right  across  my  bed.     It's  lucky — " 

"  What !  "  Mrs.  Miller  almost  screamed,  "  there  !  " 

Of  course  there  was  a  general  expression  of  concern,  and 
interest,  and  satisfaction  at  Miss  Blane's  escape. 

"  But  you  don't  any  of  you  understand,"  cried  Mrs.  Miller; 
"it's  the  most  wonderful  thing  that  ever  was  known." 

Annerly  looked  almost  more  unhappy  at  the  disclosure  which 
Mrs.  Miller  had  now  launched  herself  on  than  he  had  been 
before,  but  Mrs.  Miller  was  far  too  excited  to  check  her 
explanations. 

"Mr.  Annerly  foresaw  it,  clairvoyantly  foresaw  it,  and 
warned  me  last  night,  and  that  was  why  I  made  Miss  Blane 
sleep  in  my  room." 

It  was  now  the  turn  of  the  others,  of  course,  to  demand 
explanations;  and  the  whole  transaction  was  exhaustively 
reviewed  in  all  its  bearings.  The  Professor  severely  rebuked 
the  persons  concerned  for  having  kept  the  warning  secret  the 
previous  evening. 

"  Here  are  we,  a  body  of  people  of  competent  judgment  and 
credibility  in  various  ways,  assembled  here  for  the  express 
purpose  of  examining  into  the  mysteries  of  psychic  phenomena. 
At  the  very  outset  of  our  undertaking  an  incident  happens  of 
first-rate  importance  as  a  fact  to  investigate ;  and  yet  those  of 
our  number  into  whose  hands  the  evidence  which  gives  it 
importance  is  thrown,  bottle  that  evidence  up  and  hide  it  away 
in  the  secret  recesses  of  their  own  consciousness.  How  are  we 
to  get  on  if  we  proceed  upon  such  a  plan  as  that  t " 

"  But  in  telling  me  last  night,"  Mrs.  Miller  pleaded,  "  Mr. 
Annerly  fully  recorded  the  impression  he  had  received." 

"  For  the  purpose  of  making  our  experience  of  use  to  others 
he  recorded  it  very  imperfectly.  For  people  who  happen  to 
know  you  personally,  and  who  happen  to  have  an  opportunity 
of  asking  you  questions  about  what  ha?  just  taken  place,  there 
is  evidence  obtainable,  I  do  not  deny  ;  but  for  the  information 
outside  our  immediate  circle,  the  occurrence  as  it  stands  now 
il  nearly  useless.     Strangers  will  say  they  do  not  know  after  all 


OONVIOTBD   OF    OLAIBVOYANOB.  45 

what  Mr.  Annerly  really  said  to  you.  After  the  event  it  la 
announced  that  he  foretold  it.  Why,  people  will  ask,  was  there 
no  written  note  kept  of  what  he  really  said  overnight  t  Here  is 
a  most  interesting  manifestation  of  prophetic  clairvoyance  lost 
to  the  world  for  want  of  a  little  ordinary,  reasonable  forethought 
in  verifying  it  at  first." 

"  Then  what  do  you  say  we  ought  to  have  done,  Professor 
Massilton  t  If  Mr.  Annerly  had  blurted  out  just  what  he  saw, 
he  would  have  frightened  Miss  Blane  out  of  her  senses." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Miller,  who  asserted  that  he  should  have  told 
Miss  Blaue  1  He  should,  in  my  humble  opinion,  have  written 
a  brief  memorandum  of  what  he  saw,  which  four  or  five  of  us 
could  have  witnessed.  And  then,  of  course,  we  could  have 
taken  one  precaution  which,  as  events  have  fallen  out,  has 
been  entirely  overlooked.  We  could  have  examined  the  room 
to  which  his  vision  related  last  night.  As  it  is,  we  shall  be 
asked,  if  we  ever  tell  this  story,  whether  we  have  certain 
knowledge  that  the  plaster  from  the  ceiling  had  not  already 
fallen  last  night  at  the  time  the  warning  was  received." 

"  Well,  but  Miss  Blane  went  into  her  room  to  get  somt 
things  last  night.     Nothing  had  fallen  then,  Marian,  had  it  1 " 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Miss  Blane.  "  I  am  sure  I  musi 
have  noticed — " 

"Of  course,"  said  the  Professor;  "I  don't  for  a  moment 
believe,  myself,  that  anything  had  fallen  then,  but  we  have  not 
got  positive  evidence  to  go  to  the  public  with  that  it  had  not." 

"Now  my  impression  has  been  justified,"  Annerly  put  in, 
"  we  can  see  that  it  might  have  been  worth  while  to  have  done 
all  you  say.  But  it  would  have  seemed  to  be  giving  so  much 
trouble  for  nothing  at  the  time.  And  if  nothing  had  taken 
place  afterwards,  you  would  all  have  been  very  much  disgusted 
with  me.  It  is  not  as  if  I  had  previously  had  any  experience 
to  justify  me  in  asking  you  to  treat  my  impressions  as  impor- 
tant." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Annerly,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  "  it's  quite  evident 
noWj  at  all  events,  that  you  are  clairvoyant.  And,  by  the 
way,  that  gives  some  new  interest  to  what  you  saw  yesterday." 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  said  the  Professor,  "  have  you  been  seeing 
inything  else  that  has  been  kept  secret  1 " 

The  indignation  and  impetuosity  of  the  question  raised  a 
general  laugh. 


46  EA£MA. 

"  Poor  Mr.  Annerly,"  said  Blane,  "  we  are  treating  him  as  ti 
he  were  a  culprit  instead  of  the  hero  of  this  incident.  And, 
meanwhile,  I  think  we  have  forgotten  to  say  one  thing,  which 
I,  at  all  events,  feel  very  strongly,  that  my  sister  and  I  are 
very  sincerely  grateful  to  him  for  having  saved  her,  by  the 
very  wonderful  faculty  he  possesses,  from  what  must  certainly 
have  been  a  very  alarming  and  serious  accident." 

"  Indeed,"  Miss  Blane  added,  *'  I  am  very  grateful." 

"  That  goes  without  saying,"  the  Professor  went  on :  "  or  at 
all  events  it  is  very  fitly  and  properly  said.  But  an  immense 
interest  attaches  to  what  has  occurred,  apart  from  personal 
feeling.  And  do  not  let  us  lose  sight  of  general  principles  in 
our  private  interests.  What  is  this  other  vision  of  yours,  to 
which  Mrs.  Miller  refers  1 " 

"  Eeally  it  is  almost  too  slight  to  speak  of,  and  can  have  no 
value  as  a  test  of  any  sort,"  Annerly  declared.  "  Besides,  there 
is  nothing  to  be  verified.  I  thought  I  saw  Baron  von  Mond- 
stern  on  the  stairs  near  the  room  I  occupy ;  but  I  was  mistaken, 
for  he  had  not  returned  to  the  castle." 

The  Professor  sighed,  as  over  weaknesses  of  human  nature, 
that  had  to  be  endured,  but  were  very  grievous.  He  argued 
with  extreme  gentleness  that,  since  Mr.  Annerly  had  been 
discovered  to  possess  an  abnormal  faculty,  it  would  be  a  culp- 
able disregard  of  their  plain  duty  as  students  of  psychic 
mysteries  to  treat  any  manifestations  of  it  with  indifi'erence. 
He  insisted  on  recording  a  proces  verbal  of  the  impression 
Annerly  had  had  about  seeing  the  Baron,  in  order  to  ascertain 
later  from  the  Baron  himself  what  he  had  been  doing  and  where 
he  had  been  at  the  time.  He  also  drew  up  a  statement  em- 
bodying all  that  had  occurred  in  connection  with  the  fall  of 
the  ceiling,  viewed  the  apartment,  all  the  guests  who  were 
present,  taking  part  in  this  ceremony;  and  he  exacted  from 
Annerly  a  solemn  promise  that  he  would  communicate  any 
further  impressions  of  an  abnormal  nature  that  he  might  receive, 
either  to  himself  or  to  three  or  four  other  persons,  if  there 
might  be  any  reason  for  withholding  them  from  him,  at  the 
time  of  their  reception.  Annerly  found  himself  the  subject  of 
80  much  brooding  watchfulness  during  the  remainder  of  the 
day  that  his  naturally  retiring  and  modest  temperament  was 
put  to  a  severe  strain.  It  was  very  pleasant  to  him,  however, 
to  find  himself  dxawn  into  a  stroll  in  the  woods  in  the  afternoon 


CONVICTED   OF   OLAIBVOTANOB.  47 

with  Miss  Blane  and  her  brother,  and  treated — without  any 
further  reference  being  made  to  debts  of  gratitude — with 
affectionate  friendliness  that  gave  him  an  unusual  feeUng  of 
contentment.  He  was  not  really  unfamiliar  with  the  outward 
fact  that  people  sometimes  seemed  to  like  his  society  and 
conversation ;  but  he  was  always  disposed  to  attribute  this  to 
any  imaginable  circumstance  that  was  unflattering  to  himself 
rather  than  to  personal  merit.  In  the  present  case,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  had  an  undercurrent  of  consciousness  that  he  really 
had  done  a  service  to  the  girl  he  was  with,  which  both  she  and 
her  brother  appreciated.  This  overcame  his  habitual  shyness 
for  the  moment,  and  made  him  enjoy  his  walk  in  a  way  which 
in  turn  reacted  to  brighten  his  severe  demeanour,  though  the 
views  of  life  he  expressed  were  still  of  a  sombre  cast. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  observed  a  propos  to  some  disparaging 
remarks  Elane  had  brought  to  bear  on  the  ordinary  routine  of 
pleasure-seeking,  "that  the  enjoyment  to  be  found  in  society 
turns  entirely  on  the  temperament  you  take  into  it.  Let  a  man 
he  happy,  having  the  conditions  of  such  a  state  fulfilled  for  him 
in  his  private  relationships,  and  every  incident  of  life,  every 
conversation  he  may  carry  on,  every  fresh  acquaintanceship  he 
makes,  is  but  a  stirring  of  his  inner  consciousness  that  he  is  so. 
On  the  opposite  hypothesis  the  stirring  of  consciousness  involved 
in  going  about  amongst  people  is  apt  to  be  little  more  than  a 
stimulus  to  pain.  Everything  seems  intrinsically  repulsive  or 
contemptible  because  of  the  reflex  light  in  which  it  is  viewed." 

"  I  think  I  like  going  about  in  society  because  it  is  amusing 
to  watch  people's  ways,"  Miss  Blane  put  in. 

"  if — which  the  gods  avert — you  were  personally  unhappy 
you  would  find  them  only  bore  you." 

"  If  one  was  iU  or  poor  or  in  grief  about  people  who  had  died, 
you  mean." 

"  Every  man  and  woman,  except  a  few  circumstanced  in  an 
abnormal  way,  has  very  special  relations,  sooner  or  later,  with 
some  other  one  woman  or  man.  That  I  take  to  be  generally 
the  key-note  of  each  person's  life ;  and,  as  far  as  happiness  is 
concerned,  I  fancy,  pretty  nearly  everything  depends  on  that 
key-note.  Troubles  in  life,  having  nothing  to  do  with  it,  may  be 
severe,  but  in  most  cases  are  evanescent.  With  a  man  it  can  only 
be  a  woman  who  will  finally  ruin  his  life,  or  give  it,  subject  to  the 
manifold  perils  of  existence,  a  predominant  tint  of  happiness." 


48  KABMA. 

"  Perhaps  I  take  too  gloomy  a  view  of  things,"  eaid  Blane. 
"  But  my  amendment  to  what  you  say  would  be,  that,  while  a 
woman  may  very  easily  make  a  man  miserable,  she  cannot  very 
easily  make  him  happy,  or  keep  him  for  very  long  even  con- 
tented." 

"  Willy,  what  a  horrible  misanthrope  you  are  1 " 

"  The  sun  may  shine,"  suggested  Annerly,  "  on  a  barren  or  a 
beautiful  landscape,  but  the  best  looks  sullen  without  it,  the 
worst  under  its  influence  is,  in  a  measure,  cheerful  I  merely 
contend  that  the  one  main  relationship  of  each  person's  life 
determines  the  state  of  the  weather  for  him  or  her,  psycholo- 
gically speaking.  The  scenery,  whether  it  is  grand  or  humble, 
is  another  matter,  but,  to  enjoy  any  sort,  fine  weather  is  a  sine 
qud  non,* 

"  The  weathercock,  certainly,  is  a  symbol  one  may  associat* 
with  the  female  character." 

"  Don't  insult  Mr.  Annerly's  beautiful  theory,  Willy." 

"  It  is  the  fault  of  all  metaphors  that  they  are  sure  to  leak 
somewhere,"  Annerly  said.  "  But  after  all  the  weathercock  is 
a  masculine  bird,  wholly  dependent  for  his  attitude  on  atmo- 
spheric conditions — so  he  may  help  my  argument  perhaps  after 
all" 

"I  should  not  have  thought" — later  on  in  the  day  Mrs. 
Miller  said  to  Miss  Blane,  who  had  been  telling  her  something 
of  what  they  had  been  talking  about  and  their  walk — "that 
our  talented  clairvoyant  had  been  so  romantic.  Your  influence 
must  have  stirred  up  these  sudden  emotions,  my  dear." 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

THE   baron's   arrival^ 

Meanwhile  a  new  interest  was  imparted  to  the  castle  gathering^ 
in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  by  the  Baron's  arrival. 

As  the  guests  were  mostly  out  of  doors  or  in  their  own  rooms 
when  he  came,  he  was  only  received  by  the  old  butler,  and 
went  up  to  his  own  rooms,  accompanied  by  a  boy  about  eleven 
years  of  age,  whom  he  brought  with  him,  both  having  walked 


THE    BAROiV's    ARRIVAL,  49 

up  the  hill  from  the  station,  leaving  their  lu|,'gage  to  follow  hj 
the  road.  Mrs.  Miller  was  in  the  castle,  it  appeared,  so  he  sent 
down  word  that  he  would  wait  on  her  if  she  could  receive  him, 
and  presently  went  to  her  in  the  octagon  houdoir. 

Baron  Friedrich  von  Mondstern  had  remained,  by  the  death 
of  an  elder  brother,  as  he  was  entering  manhood,  the  sole  in- 
heritor of  the  fairly  considerable  possessions  of  the  old  Saxon 
family  to  which  he  belonged.  He  had  passed  (outwardly,  at  all 
events)  a  very  quiet,  uneventful,  and  studious  life,  interrupted, 
after  he  became  his  own  master  entirely,  by  considerable  absences 
abroad,  but  otherwise  spent  chiefly  at  Heidelberg,  the  univer- 
sity where  he  graduated,  or  at  one  of  the  two  or  three  old 
family-houses  he  possessed  in  diflferent  parts  of  Germany.  The 
season  just  preceding  the  autumn  party  at  Heiligenfels  was  the 
first  he  had  spent  in  London — so  far,  at  any  rate,  as  making 
acquaintances  freely  or  going  about  in  society  was  concerned — 
but  the  new  friends  he  had  then  made  were  eager  in  trying  to 
persuade  him  that  it  might  not  be  the  last. 

The  Baron  was  far  from  setting  up  as  a  brilliant  conversa- 
tionalist, and  still  less  did  he  win  favour  as  a  spirited  viveur. 
In  some  undefinable  way  he  won  hearts  in  a  greater  degree  than 
he  dazzled  society  in  general.  With  quick  and  tender  sympa- 
thies he  would  talk  with  his  friends  rather  of  things  that  in- 
terested them,  than  of  subjects  identified  with  himself.  His 
birth  and  position  in  the  world  secured  him  ready  acceptance 
wherever  he  went ;  his  personal  qualities  ensured  him  cordiality 
wherever  he  stayed.  A  very  finished  linguist,  he  was  equally 
at  home  in  the  three  leading  languages  of  Europe ;  and  his 
literary  culture  betrayed  a  range  of  acquirements  which  dwarfed 
into  relative  insignificance  his  faculty  of  speaking  English  and 
French  as  fluently  as  his  own  tongue.  But  these  would  crop 
up  by  degrees,  merely  in  the  intimacy  of  friendship,  and  would 
rarely  appear  on  the  surface  of  his  general  conversation,  which 
despised  none  of  the  common  topics  of  the  hour,  and  would 
only  be  distinguished  from  the  talk  of  intelligent  people  around 
him  by  a  shade  more  fertility  of  illustration  and  collateral  infor- 
mation than  was  usually  met  with.  He  was  too  uncr^mpromis- 
ingly  good-natured  to  be  very  witty,  but  a  perennial  flow 
of  cheerfulness  and  good  temper  on  his  part  made  him  a  bright 
and  lively  companion,  and  few  people  who  came  to  know 
him  with  the  leaat  degree  of  intimacy  could  reaist  the  impulst 


50  EABMA. 

to  talk  to  him  more  or  less  confidentially  about  their  personal 
affairs.  As  these,  after  all,  interest  most  of  us  in  a  greater 
degree  than  any  other  topic,  a  person  who  speaks  of  them  to  a 
sympathetic  listener,  invested  on  general  grounds  with  claims 
to  respect,  will  always  find  such  conversation  profoundly  attrac- 
tive, and  tending  to  set  off  the  listener  in  a  very  amiable  light. 

The  Baron,  in  such  cases,  too.  would  be  much  more  than  a 
listener— a  wise  and  keen-sighted  counseUor ;  and  the  rooms 
where  he  established  himself  in  Clarges  street  came  to  be  invested 
afterwards  in  the  memory  of  a  good  many  of  the  friends  he  made 
during  his  London  season,  with  the  interest  attaching  to  scenes 
associated  with  some  fresh  departure  in  life. 

Certainly  his  passage  through  London  society  had  not  been 
entirely  unmarked  by  disappointments  and  regrets.  The  Baron 
was  about  forty  years  old,  unmarried,  well  off  and  well  placed, 
as  already  described ;  rather  above  the  middle  height,  though 
delicately  made,  and  with  a  general  aspect  that  was  something 
more  than  striking  and  attractive.  With  very  large  clear  blue 
eyes  and  light  brown  beard,  a  moustache  that  but  slightly  fringed 
has  upper  lip  without  concealing  the  lines  of  a  finnly-set,  but  in 
no  way  sternly-drawii,  mouth,  with  brown  hair  a  shade  or  two 
darker  than  the  beard,  and  a  look  of  intellectual  power  com- 
bined with  sweetness  of  disposition  in  his  face  generally,  it  could 
hardly  happen  that  Baron  Friedrich,  as  his  friends  generally 
called  him,  should  move  about  in  society  without  exciting,  here 
and  there,  day-dreams  and  projects  incompatible  with  his  stead- 
fast celibacy.  But  his  manner,  whether  with  girls,  or  with 
skilled  matrons  more  daring  and  unscrupulous  in  the  use  of  their 
deadly  weapons,  was  never  betrayed  even  under  the  most  provo- 
cative circumstances  into  special  earnestness.  At  all  events,  no 
fair  combatant  who  attempted  any  such  encounter,  could  ever 
complain  that  she  had  been  worsted  by  unfair  fence.  The 
Baron  might,  here  and  there,  be  praised  with  sarcastic  emphasis, 
as  a  man  with  gi'eat  command  over  his  feelings;  but  he  had 
never  been  accused  of  attempting  to  assume  the  mastery  over 
those  of  any  lady. 

Rarely  speaking  of  himself,  and  still  less  inclined  to  revile 
fate,  he  nevertheless  would  sometimes  acknowledge  a  serious 
grief — the  death  of  his  sister,  younger  than  himself  by  many 
years,  who  had  married  an  Englishman,  the  Sir  John  Hexton 
already  slightly  mentioned  as  one  of  the  guests  at  Heiligenfela. 


THE    BAEON's   arrival.  61 

Her  marriage  and  death  had  taken  place  during  one  of  his 
absences  abroad.  Her  only  child,  Reginald  Hexton,  now  grown 
to  be  the  boy  mentioned  above,  was  a  child  of  four  or  five  years 
when  she  died.  Baron  Friedrich,  returning  to  Europe  almost 
immediately  afterwards,  proposed  to  take  charge  of  him  and 
bring  him  up  in  Germany.  Sir  John  was  well  pleased  to  have 
the  boy  taken  off  his  hands,  but  would  agree  to  no  final  an-ange- 
ment  as  regards  his  education.  His  son  and  heir  ought  to  pre- 
pare for  his  ultimate  destiny,  he  thought,  by  going  through  the 
orthodox  routine  of  an  English  public  school  and  university. 
That  question  was  waived  for  the  time,  however ;  and  for  the 
few  years  of  childhood,  Reginald  went  with  his  uncle  to  a 
country-house  near  Dresden. 

"  This  is  my  nephew,  Mrs.  Miller,  of  whom  I  think  you  have 
heard,"  the  Baron  said,  introducing  the  boy.  *'  Sir  John  is  out 
just  now,  they  tell  me." 

"  He  does  credit  to  your  side  of  the  family,"  said  Mrs.  Miller 
with  her  usual  directness.  •*  What  eyes  he's  got  !  Your  eyes. 
Baron,  only  brown  instead  of  blue.  He's  more  like  you  than 
Sir  John." 

**  Yes,  in  some  respects  he  is  like  what  my  sister  was  in  life ;" 
and  then  the  Baron  asked  whether  Mrs.  Miller  had  found  the 
castle  in  all  respects  properly  garrisoned  and  prepared  for  her 
reception,  and  as  to  the  comfort  of  her  journey  from  London, 
and  so  forth.  She,  of  course,  poured  out  a  fuU  history  of  all 
that  had  taken  place  since  her  arrival,  of  the  distribution  of  the 
guests,  and  of  the  arrangements  in  reference  to  the  few  who 
were  still  expected. 

"  The  Vaughans  1  Yes,  of  course,"  said  the  Baron,  thought- 
fully, "  that  was  inevitable." 

"  Inevitable  I  Why,  would  you  rather  not  have  had  them  1 
I  thought  they  would  he  such  very  nice  people  to  have." 

"  The  nicest  imaginable.  Do  not  divine  a  regret  on  my  part 
or  a  reproach  in  the  use  of  the  word.  I  am  delighted  that  it 
should  be  they.  And  our  young  friend  Merland  is  enjoying 
life,  I  hope,  as  much  as  ever." 

"  I'm  sure  he  ought  to  be  with  such  a  nice  girl  as  Marian 
Blane  for  him  to  play  with.  I  haven't  any  matronly  scruples 
in  leaving  them  together,  because  no  harm  can  come  of  it,  what- 
ever comes  of  it." 

"The  perilous  pastime  of  match-making  has  attractiouB  foT 

B  2 


52  KARMA. 

you,  I  see,  but,  as  you  say,  no  harm  can  come  of  it  in  this  ease. 

Ah,  here  is  the  Professor — *'  as  the  door  opened  to  admit  the 
guest  named.  **  I  need  not  say  how  glad  I  am  to  find  you 
safely  installed  here." 

"  I  heard  you  had  come,  and  could  not  put  off  the  pleasure  of 
greeting  you,"  and  so  on.  After  a  very  little  talk  on  the  surface 
of  things  the  Professor  went  straight  to  the  leading  idea  that 
had  taken  possession  of  his  mind. 

"  I  have  been  talking  with  some  of  our  friends  here.  Baron, 
and  I  find  that,  like  myself,  several  of  them  have  been  looking 
back  with  peculiar  and  special  interest,  in  connection  with  your- 
self, on  conversations  held  with  you  about  mysteries  of  Nature, 
which  lie  outside  the  domain  of  physical  investigation.  Now  a 
strange  thing  happened  here  last  evening,  and  I  want  to  know 
whether  you  can  help  us  to  a  better  comprehension  of  it.  The 
thing  has  occurred  here  in  your  house,  and  is  in  the  line  of 
problems  that  you  have  evidently  studied."  Then  the  Professor 
related  the  incident  of  which  Annerly  had  been  the  hero. 

"  1  have  known  other  people  before,"  the  Baron  said,  **  with 
the  faculty  of  receiving  impressions  of  that  sort.  I  think  you 
will  find  that,  when  pubhc  attention  is  turned  to  the  subject 
more  generally,  people  will  accept  the  existence  of  such  faculties 
as  a  natural  fact,  and  study  them  in  all  their  manifestations." 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  want  to  do  now.  Here  is  a  case 
within  our  own  experience.  A  bird  in  the  hand,  for  scientific 
purposes,  is  not  only  worth  two  in  the  bush,  it  is  worth  twenty 
thousand,  or  any  number  you  like,  out  of  reach.  But  the  first 
thing  one  should  do  with  every  subject  of  scientific  examination 
is  to  repeat  the  experiment  that  produces  the  phenomenon  to  be 
examined.  As  this  thing  has  occurred,  it  is  useless  for  the 
advance  of  knowledge,  except  so  far  as  it  may  have  awakened  our 
attention.  Related  to  any  stranger,  it  would  hardly  impress  his 
mind  at  all.  He  would  distrust  the  precision  of  Annerly's  state- 
ment last  evening  to  Mrs.  Miller,  he  would  attribute  the  removal  of 
Mis8  Blane  from  the  place  of  danger  to  accidental  coincidence." 

"  I  don't  see,"  Mrs.  Miller  objected,  "  why  anybody  should 
disbelieve  me  when  I  say  what  Mr.  Annerly  told  me." 

"  A  scientific  fact  must  rest  upon  something  more  tangible 
than  a  statement  as  to  what  one  person  mny  have  said  to  another 
on  a  certain  occasion,"  the  Professor  replied.  "  Personally,  I 
believe  what  you  say — " 


THE  babon's  abbiyal.  53 

••  Thank  you  kindly,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  satirically. 

**liis  BL  great  compliment,"  declared  the  Professor,  "  because 
many  people  are  very  inaccurate;  but  I  cannot  transfer  my 
confidence  to  any  one  who  may  not  have  the  pleasure  of 
knowing  you.  What  we  must  have,  before  we  begin  to  inves- 
tigate the  laws  which  may  govern  such  curious  flashes  of  clair- 
voyance— to  accept  the  common  word — as  1  myself  believe  that 
Mr.  Annerly  exhibited  in  this  case,  is  some  manifestation  of 
that  law  that  we  can  reproduce  at  our  pleasure.  Now  can  you 
help  us  to  that,  my  dear  Baron,  do  you  think  T " 

The  boy,  Beginald  Hexton,  who  had  been  seated  on  a  corner 
of  the  low  divan  in  front  of  the  window  overlooking  the  Rhine, 
all  this  while,  but  whose  attention  had  been  closely  given  to 
the  conversation,  and  not  to  the  view,  glanced  at  the  Baron  as 
this  was  said,  and  slightly  smiled.  The  Professor  was  very 
observant  and  picked  up  the  little  sign. 

**  Your  young  friend  there  evidently  tliinks  you  can,"  he  said 
to  the  Baron. 

"Let  me  present  my  young  friend — my  nephew,  Reginald 
Hexton.  I  daresay  in  many  ways  he  has  an  exaggerated 
confidence  in  his  uncle's  capacity.  But  the  dilficulty  which 
always  confronts  me  when  I  have  been  thinking  of  that  point 
is,  that  the  conditions  of  any  psychic  experiments  must  neces- 
sarily be  so  subtle  that  they  are  very  hard  to  catch.  Now  in 
the  case  that  has  just  taken  place  it  is  evident  that  the  nervous 
system  of  both  persons  concerned — Miss  Blane  and  Mr.  Annerly 
— were  somewhat  abnonnally  excited  by  the  visit  to  the 
dungeons.  Then  Miss  Blane's  imagination  pictuies  herself 
alone  at  night ;  and  if,  as  people  are  now  arguing,  thought  is  a 
force  which  can  sometimes  produce  a  direct  efiect  on  the  mind 
of  another  person,  her  mental  picture  of  her  bedroom,  which 
naturally  rises  in  her  mind,  may  have  impinged  upon  Mr. 
Annerly 's  mind  when  that  was  in  a  special  condition  of  recep- 
tivity. We  have  still  got,  of  course,  to  make  other  conjectures 
as  to  how  he  is  enabled  to  foresee  a  peril  by  which  the  scene  so 
presented  to  him  is  menaced ;  but,  apart  from  that,  it  would 
plainly  be  very  difficult  to  get  up  the  special  conditions  of 
nervous  excitement,  at  will,  in  people  you  want  to  experiment 
upon." 

The  conversation  went  on  for  some  while  longer  without 
leading  to  any  special   result.     Questioned    by  the  Professor 


M  EABMA. 

about  what  he  had  been  doing  at  the  time  Annerly  thought  he 
saw  him  on  the  stairs,  the  Baron  identified  the  time  as  one  at 
which  he  had  been  travelling  in  a  railway  carriage  at  a  con- 
siderable distance  from  Heiligenfels. 

"  But  I  may  fairly  a  id,  I  thinly,  if  the  impression  strikes 
you  as  having  any  interest  in  connection  with  the  subject,  that 
I  was,  if  my  memory  serves  me  rightly,  thinking  of  our  party 
here  at  the  time." 

"  The  importance  of  that,"  said  the  Professor,  "  would  turn 
upon  the  possibility  of  reproducing  that  effect  as  an  experiment. 
If  any  process  of  thinking  on  your  part  could  again  provoke  in 
Mr.  Annerly's  mind  the  impression  of  seeing  you  when  you 
were  at  a  distance,  that  would  be  just  an  experiment  of  the 
sort  we  were  talking  of.  What  you  can  do  in  the  way  of 
projecting  such  impressions,  probably  others  could  do  also — 
not  necessarily  every  one,  but  some  others.  By  degrees 
we  should  discover  some  such  other  persons  by  experiment, 
and  then  we  might  get  on  the  track  of  an  inquiry  worth  pur- 
suing." 

"  We  can  see  about  making  such  experiments,"  the  Baron 
said ;  "  but  meanwhile  I  may  tell  you  that  it  is  quite  possible 
you  will  find  an  even  better  subject  for  them  in  our  friend  Mrs. 
Lakesby,  who  is  coming  here.  From  what  I  know  of  her,  I 
think  I  may  venture  to  promise  you  that  you  will  find  her 
both  able  and  willing  to  give  you  proof  that  she  can  see  more 
in  the  world  than  physical  eyesight  shows  most  of  us." 

The  Baron's  statement  about  Mrs.  Lakesby  was  interrupted 
by  the  arrival  of  Sir  John  Hexton,  who  had  been  strolling  in 
the  neighbouring  wood  with  Lady  Emily.  Sir  John  had  not 
much  to  say  to  his  young  son. 

"  Not  tired  of  Germany  yet,  Reggy  1 "  he  asked  the  boy. 

"  Not  since  Uncle  Friedrich  came  back." 

"  Ah,  well !  Germany's  a  good  country,  but  England's  a 
better,  I  think  you'll  find  in  the  long  run.  What  do  you  think, 
Professor  ? " 

*'  I  think  they're  both  good  countries,  and  wherever  I  am 
shall  seem  better  for  me — especially  Heiligenfels." 

"  Well,  Reggy  there  will  be  better  able  to  judge  when  he 
knows  both,"  said  his  father. 

"  And  what  school  do  you  fancy,  Reggy  t "  said  the  Professor, 
the  conversation  thus  having  been  turned  on  the  boy ;  "  Eton, 


A  OUEIOUS   MANIFESTATION.  65 

or  Rugby,  or  Harrow  1  I  suppose  a  young  swell  like  you  will 
patronise  one  of  them  1" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  boy;  "I  haven't  seen  any  of 
them." 

*'  I  went  to  Eton,"  said  Sir  John,  "  and  so  did  my  father 
before  me." 

**  Your  counsels  might  be  very  valuable  in  this  matter, 
Professor,"  said  the  Baron  ;  "  but  Sir  John  would  probably  like 
to  go  into  the  question  with  you  more  at  leisure  some  day." 

The  Professor  declared  that  he  would  be  very  ready  to 
discuss  the  matter,  and  went  on  t^  explain  some  general  prin- 
ciples in  regard  to  the  selection  of  schools  for  boys,  which  the 
world  at  large  failed  as  a  rule  to  apply.  The  exposition  was 
illustrated  by  an  unusually  full  and  exact  knowledge  of  the 
characteristics  of  the  great  English  schools ;  but  after  a  time 
Mrs.  Miller  suggested  that  they  should  all  go  and  have  tea  on 
the  terrace,  and  the  movement  thither  turned  the  conversation 
into  other  channels. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

A  CURIOUS  MANIFESTATIOH. 

Bt  degrees  most  other  members  of  the  party  dropped  In  from 
afternoon  walks  or  other  private  occupations.  Annerly  was  the 
only  person  who  had  to  be  presented  to  the  Earun.  When  he 
came  on  to  the  terrace  with  the  Blanes  on  his  return  from  his 
walk,  there  was  a  revival  of  interest  in  the  incident  with  which 
he  had  been  connected.  Mrs.  Miller's  reference  to  this  covered 
a  moment's  surprise  and  suppressed  excitement  on  Annerly's 
part. 

*'  Would  you  have  known  me  1 "  asked  the  Baron,  unheard 
by  the  others,  as  they  stood  for  a  few  moments  a  little  apart. 

**  Anywhere,"  replied  Annerly. 

*'  Then  say  nothing  about  it.  The  incident  only  concerns 
yourself." 

Sir  John  Hexton,  meanwhile,  had  exchanged  some  glancea  of 


56  EABMA. 

silent  meaning  with  Lady  Emily  when  the  feat  of  elairvoyanc* 
was  referred  to. 

**  I  hope  Mr.  Annerly  will  give  a  look  to  my  ceiling  to-night, 
Mrs.  Miller,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps  the  castle  will  be  coming  to 
pieces  generally,  and  I  should  like  to  be  forewarned." 

**  Don't  be  afraid.  It  seems  that  the  room  Miss  Blane  was  in, 
had  a  lot  of  shavings  take  fire  in  it  while  the  castle  was  being 
repaired.  I've  been  asking  about  how  the  accident  can  have 
happened,  and  Franz  says  it  must  have  been  through  the  plaster 
drying  irregularly,  owing  to  this  fire,  that  it  got  cracked.  There 
were  no  fires  elsewhere." 

*'  All  right,  Mrs.  Miller  ;  then  I  won't  be  afraid,  even  if  Mn 
Annerly  does  foresee  that  my  ceiling  is  coming  down." 

"I  hear  you.  Sir  John,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  acknowledging  the 
implied  distrust  of  the  clairvoyant  achievement ;  "  I'll  talk  to 
you  some  other  time  when  I've  nothing  better  to  do.  It's  a  pity, 
at  your  age,  that  you  shouldn't  know  better," 

Blane  was  appealed  to  by  the  Professor,  shortly  after  this,  to 
say  how  the  majority  of  educated  men  in  London  would  take  it, 
supposing  they  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Times  detailing  the  fact 
under  notice ;  the  signatures  of  persons  as  well  known  as  some 
of  themselves  being  a  guarantee,  at  all  events,  that  the  state- 
ment would  be  made  in  good  faith. 

"  I  don't  think  my  opinion  on  the  matter  is  worth  much," 
Blane  muttered,  to  begin  with ;  "  but  I  should  think  that  one- 
half  of  our  readers  would  merely  laugh  at  us,  and  the  other  half 
would  say  we  must  have  had  very  little  psychic  experience  to  be 
greatly  moved  by  so  very  natural  an  occurrence." 

"  At  any  rate,"  said  the  Baron,  "  I  think  if  there  is  any 
writing  to  the  Times  to  be  done,  it  might  be  better  to  wait  and 
see  whether  incidents  still  better  worth  notice  than  this  may  not 
offer  themselves  during  our  stay  here." 

Blane  and  the  Professor  exchanged  glances. 

"  I  shall  wait,"  said  the  Professor,  "  with  all  the  greater 
confidence  now  that  you  have  made  the  suggestion." 

"  But  as  an  independent  view  of  the  matter,  and  not  suppos- 
ing that  we  are  any  of  us  thinking  at  present  of  writing  to  the 
Times"  the  Baron  went  on,  " I  should  not  be  disposed  to  think 
that  any  great  interest  would  be  excited  in  England  by  any 
statement,  however  well  authenticated,  of  any  occurrence  of  an 
bnormal  character,  which  was  not  associated  with  the  discovery 


A   0UEIOD8    MANIFESTATION.  67 

of  a  new  principle  in  Nature  that  fully  accounted  for  it  A  new 
fact  by  itself  is  nothing  in  the  estimation  of  scientific  observers 
of  Nature,  unless  it  is  either  in  the  direct  line  of  their  own  habi- 
tual studies,  in  which  case  they  may  be  disposed  to  take  it  up, 
and  investigate  it  themselves,  or  on  the  other  hand  unless  it 
tomes  to  them  ready  investigated,  and  explaining  its  own  laws.*' 

"  There  could  not  be  a  new  fact,"  said  the  Professor,  *'  in  the 
shape  of  any  natural  phenomenon,  which  would  not  fall  within 
the  range  of  some  department  of  science." 

"I  am  not  sure  that  I  agree  with  you  there.  Indeed  I  think 
I  could  draw  your  attention  to  a  fact  that  cannot  very  easily  be 
classified,  and  yet,  small  thing  as  it  is,  may  nevertheless  suggest 
the  necessity  of  opening  out  a  new  line  of  inquiry  in  Nature 
before  it  can  thoroughly  be  accounted  for." 

"  What  fact  are  you  referring  to  t " 

**  You  may  never  have  encountered  it,  as  it  has  to  do  with  a 
somewhat  unusual  state  of  that  powerful,  but  in  most  cases 
inactive,  galvanic  battery,  which  a  human  body  in  one  of  its 
aspects  may  be  said  to  constitute." 

"No  doubt  when  you  say  that,"  said  the  Professor,  "you 
attach  some  definite  meaning  to  your  words,  but  I  would 
observe  in  passing  that  they  do  not  convey  any  meaning  to  my 
mind.  That  unmanifested  electricity  exists  in  human  flesh  and 
bones,  as  in  all  other  kinds  of  matter,  I  fully  recognise,  but  that 
condition  of  things  does  not  carry  with  it  the  attributes  of  a 
galvanic  battery." 

"  And  how  would  you  define  the  essential  attributes  of  such 
an  instrument  apart  from  all  structural  details  ? " 

"  A  galvanic  battery,  whatever  else  it  may  or  may  not  be,  is 
an  apparatus  for  rendering  electric  effects  perceptible  to  the 
senses.  With  your  battery  you  can  at  any  time  you  please 
provoke  a  sensible  current,  and  whatever  electricity  may  lurk  in 
my  body,  I  cannot  throw  it  out  in  a  way  that  the  senses  of 
another  person,  or  an  electrometer,  can  register." 

"  I  believe  you  could  if  you  knew  how  ;  and  I  say  that 
because  I  know  of  some  effects,  which  I  think  we  must  recog- 
nise as  electrical  in  their  character,  that  can  be  thrown  off  in 
just  the  way,  say,  from  the  human  body." 

"Of  course  you  can  charge  a  properly  insulated  human  body 
with  electricity,  and  take  off  the  charge  afterwards." 

"  Quite  so ;  but,  independently  of  that,  you  can  get  electrical 


58  KABMA. 

effects  from  it  sometimes.  For  example,  you  know  the  feeling 
of  taking  a  spark  with  your  knuckle  from  the  conductor  of  an 
electrical  machine.  Now,  kindly  put  your  knuckle  to  the  tip  of 
my  finger." 

The  Baron  leaned  his  arm,  as  he  spoke,  on  the  table  near  where 
they  were  both  sitting,  and  put  forward  the  middle  finger  of 
his  hand.  The  Professor  did  as  he  was  requested  with  a  puzzled 
smile  on  his  face,  and  withdrew  his  hand  before  it  had  quite 
touched  the  Baron's  finger,  with  a  look  of  surprise.  Except 
Blane  and  Annerly,  who  had  been  standing  by  while  the 
conversation  just  noted  had  been  going  on,  the  other  people 
present  were  scattered  about  the  terrace  in  groups,  and  did  not 
see  the  little  experiment. 

"  That  is  very  curious,"  said  the  Professor ;  "  certainly  I  had 
the  sensation  of  taking  a  slight  spark  from  your  finger,  and 
even  heard  it." 

"  I  heard  it  also,"  said  Blane. 

"  The  effect  cian  easily  be  made  much  more  audible,"  said  the 
Baron,  "  if  the  current  is  thrown  against  a  glass  in  this  way." 

A  water-jug  and  goblets  had  been  put  upon  the  terrace-table, 
together  with  the  afternoon  tea-things,  and  the  Baron  drew  one 
of  the  glasses  towards  him. 

"  Look  at  this,  all  of  you,"  said  the  Professor  to  the  company 
generally.     "Here  is  something  very  interesting." 

With  more  or  less  promptitude  the  others  drew  round  the 
table. 

"Our  previous  conversation,"  said  the  Baron,  "gives  the 
experiment  its  meaning."  As  he  spoke  he  pointed  with  his 
finger  to  the  glass,  and  moved  his  hand  slowly  towards  it  till 
the  tip  of  his  finger  was  within  three  or  four  inches  of  it. 
Then  the  glass  emitted  a  clear  ringing  sound,  as  if  it  had  been 
gently  struck  with  the  edge  of  a  knife. 

"  This  is  a  new  line  for  you  to  take  up,  Friedrich,"  said  Sir 
John ;  "  you  must  give  us  a  regular  performance  some  evening. 
That  was  uncommonly  well  done.  I  haven't  a  notion  of  how 
you  did  it." 

The  Professor,  who  had  observed  the  operation  just  accom- 
plished very  narrowly,  and  with  an  expression  of  graver  atten- 
tion than  he  had  worn  when  the  previous  experiment  had  been 
first  suggested,  looked  up  at  the  baronet  sharply. 

•*  My  dear  Sir  John,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  suppose  we  any  of 


A   OUBIOUS   MANIFESTATION.  69 

Ofi  know  *  how  it's  done,'  but  the  notion  you  appear  to  have  on 
the  subject,  from  what  you  say,  differs  very  widely  from  mine." 

"  And  from  mine,"  said  Blane. 

The  Baron  quietly,  with  an  amused  and  kindly  look,  watched 
Sir  John,  who  answered,  a  little  nettled  at  the  tone  of  reproof 
in  which  he  had  been  addressed, — 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter?  I  thought  we  were  all  called 
up  to  see  the  trick.  Why  shouldn't  I  applaud  if  I  think  it's  a 
good  one  1     I  should  like  to  see  it  again." 

"  I  don't  mind  showing  it  to  you  once  more,"  said  the  Baron, 
with  perfect  good  humour.  With  varying  expressions  on  their 
faces  the  assembled  spectators  assumed  attentive  attitudes. 
Very  deliberately  the  Baron  repeated  the  experiment,  with  the 
same  result  as  before.  Sir  John  picked  up  the  glass  imme- 
diately afterwards  and  examined  it  with  great  care.  Blane 
exchanged  looks  with  the  Professor.  Mrs.  Miller  turned  round, 
first  to  one  and  then  to  another  of  her  neighbours. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  addressing  Merland,  who  was  next  to  her, 
"  isn't  that  one  of  the  most  wonderful  things  you  ever  saw  ]** 

"That's  what  I  say,"  declared  Sir  John;  "that's  equal  to 
Maskelyne  and  Cook." 

*•  For  shame.  Sir  John,  to  talk  about  Maskelyne  and  Cook, 
indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Miller. 

"  But  why  am  I  to  be  ashamed  1 "  asked  Sir  John  in  sincere 
astonishment.  "  I  may  be  stupider  than  the  rest  of  you,  but 
I  can't,  for  the  life  of  me,  see  how  he  makes  the  glass  ring." 

"  That's  right,  Hexton,"  said  the  Baron,  good-humouredly, 
getting  up  and  moving  away  from  the  table  ;  "  don't  be  faced 
out  of  your  principles  till  you  see  good  reason  to  abandon 
them." 

The  Professor  spoke  a  little  stiffly. 

"  I  don't  think  Sir  John  Hexton  realized  that  we  were  not 
engaged  in  playing  at  conjuring- tricks,  but  talking  seriously  of 
peculiar  and  unusual  manifestations  of  natural  forces,  in  refer- 
ence to  which  the  suggestion  that  the  Baron  was  imposing  on 
us  by  a  trick,  even  if  it  were  not  inappropriate  to  the  circum- 
stances, could  only  be  less  injurious  to  ourselves  than  to  him." 

*•  xs  ot  a  conjuring  trick  ?     Why,  what  was  it  then  1 " 

"  I  hope  I  may  be  better  able  to  answer  that  hereafter  than  I 
am  now.  Meanwhile,  I  can  only  await  any  explanation  the 
Baron  may  be  able  to  give  ua." 


60  KABMA« 

A  smile  of  dubioua  meaning  gradually  broke  on  Sir  John'i 
face. 

"Oh,  I  lee.  Then  this  was  another  performance  in  the 
line  of  Mr.  Annerlj's  prophetic  warning.  We  are  getting  on  to 
very  delicate  ground." 

Sir  John  turned  away,  and  strolled  to  the  opposite  end  of  the 
terrace  with  Lady  Emily,  who  had  paid  very  sHght  attention  to 
the  experiment  with  the  goblet  The  Baron,  as  though  to  put 
an  end  to  conversation  which  had  introduced  a  faint  element 
of  discord  into  the  midst  of  the  company,  spoke  to  Annerly  on 
the  subject  of  an  article  by  him  in  one  of  the  recent  reviews, 
and  drew  him  away  in  another  direction ;  and.  following  the 
dispersive  impulse,  the  Professor  suggested  to  Blane  that  they 
should  smoke  a  cigar  on  the  upper  balcony,  and  they  went  off 
together. 

"  Now  this  is  getting  serious,"  said  the  Professor,  as  they  sat 
down  in  the  temporary  privacy  of  this  retreat. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  given  me  an  opportunity  of  talking 
to  you  alone.  For  the  first  time  we  may  now  be  able  to  learn 
more  about  the  peculiar  faculties  which  Baron  von  Mondstem  has 
somehow  acquired.** 

"  Let  us  compare  notes  a  little,  because  we  have  both  met 
our  host  before  now,  and  have  both  talked  to  him  about  the 
psychic  problems  in  which  we  take  an  interest.  Have  you 
ever  seen  him  exhibit  any  abnormal  powers  of  any  sort  before 
to^ayl" 

"  Never.  I  have  refrained  from  asking  him  direct  questions 
aa  to  whether,  in  the  course  of  any  psychic  study  he  has  pursued, 
he  has  acquired  any  abnormal  powers ;  for  his  own  exquisite 
courtesy  claims  corresponding  consideration  on  the  part  of  his 
friends.  But  he  has  indicated  to  me  that  he  would  not  be  able 
to  answer  such  questions,  even  if  they  were  put ;  that  is  to  say, 
that  psychic  powers,  as  distinguished  from  psychic  knowledge, 
can  only  be  acquired  at  the  hands  of  persons  who  invariably 
exact  strict  secrecy  from  pupils  whom  they  teach,  not  merely  in 
regard  to  the  specific  secrets  imparted,  but  also  as  to  the  bare 
isLCt  that  any  secrets  have  been  imparted.'* 

"  But,  in  the  present  case,  our  friend  has  openly  displayed  a 
faculty  that  I  can  only  interpret  as  an  abnormal  power  of  th« 
very  kind  you  speak  of.** 

**  Thii  makes  the  incident  lo  sarprisiDg  and  importaai.    It 


A  DUBIOUS    MANIFESTATION.  61 

would  seem  as  if ,  in  some  way,  he  were  under  a  dispensation  in 
regard  to  the  reserve  he  usually  exercises  about  such  things. 
And  yet  too  brusque  an  assumption  that  this  is  the  case  might 
embarrass  him.  I  felt  just  now  that  the  situation  was  a  very 
delicate  one." 

"  Delicate  ground,  as  that  oaf,  Sir  John,  put  it  with  a  very 
different  meaning." 

"  But  at  the  same  time,  so  direct  a  manifestation  as  that  of 
just  now  may  be  meant  as  a  plain  invitation  to  us  to  inquire 
further.  It  must  be  so  meant,  if  you  come  to  think  of  it.  The 
thing  takes  place  at  the  outset  of  our  visit  here.  What  he  did 
was  done  quite  spontaneously  on  his  part ;  it  would  be  ridicu- 
lous on  our  own  part  to  be  over-timid  about  cross-examining  bo 
willing  a  witness." 

"  But,  first  of  all,  what  was  done  1 " 

The  Professor  looked  puzzled. 

"  You  don't  lean  to  Sir  John's  hypothesis  t  *' 

"  By  no  means ;  but  what  was  the  true  nature  of  the  manifes- 
tation we  have  just  observed  1  I  am  always  slow  and  tedious 
in  conveying  my  meaning,  and  I  greatly  envy  your  lucid 
precision,  hut — " 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  the  Professor,  "  you  always  mean 
something,  at  all  events,  and  that  makes  a  reasonable  listener 
patient.  The  true  nature  of  the  manifestation  we  have  just 
seen  is  the  whole  problem  before  us,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  But  that  true  nature  may  be  sought  for  in  either  of  two 
directions.  The  sound  on  the  glass  is  a  physical  effect.  Now 
does  that  ensue  simply  from  an  abnormal  physical  property 
inhering  in  Baron  von  Mondstern's  body,  or  is  it  an  effort  of 
will— which  would  be  a  psychic  cause,  translated  into  terms  of 
physical  causation,  so  to  speak,  by  some  process  which,  in  that 
case,  would  be  fhe  very  key-note  of  all  occult  mysteries  1" 

"  Can  the  Baron,  you  mean,  be  a  human  sort  of  electric  eel, 
capable  of  generating  charges,  and  throwing  them  off  when  he 
pleases ;  but  even  then,  if  he  does  so  when  he  pleases,  the 
element  of  will  comes  into  play." 

"  So  it  does  when  I  move  my  hand.  At  some  point  in  th« 
train  of  causation  the  desire  to  move  it — which  is  a  psychic 
impulse — is  translated  to  the  physical  plane.  But  the  electric 
eel,  in  giving  out  shocks,  does  no  more  than  actuate  physical 
mechanism  in   a   similar   way.    Supposing  the  Baron  (apolo- 

5 


62  KABMA. 

gising  to  him  for  the  supposition,  which  I  am  not  at  all  gnppoaed 
to  hold)  were,  as  j^^ou  put  it,  a  human  sort  of  electric  eel ;  then 
the  problem  he  presents  to  us  would  be  a  physical  p-.>blem  for 
physiologists,  and  not  a  psychic  problem  for  us.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  the  Baron  is  not  differently  constituted  physically  from 
other  men,  then  he  possesses  the  faculty  of  translating  a  psychic 
impulse  into  terms  of  physical  causation  in  some  ditierent  way 
than  by  brain  action  or  nerve  centres;  and  what  he  does,  offers 
us  a  true  psychic  problem  of  the  kind  that  we  are  concerned 
with." 

The  Professor  listened  acutely  while  Blane  spoke,  but  answered 
without  the  least  hesitation, — 

"  That's  what  it  is,  assuredly.  The  Baron  is  not  the  man  to 
attach  importance  to  a  mere  physical  monstrosity,  and  that  is 
what  an  electric  gland  in  a  man  would  be.  We  know,  moreover, 
that  he  is  deeply  engrossed  with  psychic  inquiry,  and  has  put 
this  experiment  before  us  as  a  psychic  phenomenon.  And  we 
want  no  more  than  our  own  common  sense  to  diagnose  it.  In  a 
vague  and  unsatisfactory  way  a  great  many  mesmeric  and  other 
experiments  have  shown  some  sort  of  affinity  existing  between 
the  force,  whatever  it  may  be  that  is  employed  in  such  cases, 
and  the  subtlest  form  of  electricity.  It  is  on  the  strength  of 
that  affinity  that  people  have  called  the  psychic  force,  wliatever 
it  is,  in  some  of  its  manifestations,  *  animal  magnetism,'  a  very 
bad  name  I  have  always  thought,  because  the  use  of  it  entangles 
and  confuses  two  very  different  trains  of  thought  and  sets  of 
observations.  However,  with  the  new  light  the  Baron's  experi- 
ment has  let  in  on  the  subject,  it  may  turn  out  that  the  name  is 
not  such  a  bad  one  after  all.  Calling  the  psychic  force,  which 
we  all  possess  in  some  degree  probably,  though  only  a  few  of  us 
h>».ve  yet  learned  the  art  of  directing  it,  by  the  name  I  speak  of 
—animal  magnetism — then  what  the  Baron  has  done  is  to  turn 
that  amorphous  variety  of  the  force,  which  is  within  the  control 
of  the  will,  into  the  ordinary  variety  known  in  laboratories. 
There  is  your  true  psychic  problem  for  you — How  does  he  do 
it?" 

"  I  think  you  are  right,"  said  Blane.  •*  The  other  hypothesis 
need  only  be  considered  to  be  put  aside." 

"  And  what  I  don't  see  at  present,"  went  on  the  Professor, 
"  is  any  good  reason  why  we  should  not  ask  the  Baron  how  he 
ddes  it  in  a  straightforward  way,  though  I  would  prefer  to  ask  th« 


A   OTTBIOUS   MANIFESTATION.  68 

qnestion  when  we  are  not  such  a  large  party  as  we  were  jist 
now." 

No  such  opportunity  as  the  Professor  desired  offered  itself  to 
him  that  afternoon  or  evening.  The  Buron,  it  appeared,  had 
ultimately  invited  Annerly  to  his  own  private  study  to  show 
him  some  books  on  wliich  their  conversation  turned ;  and  was 
not  seen  again  before  dinner.  At  dinner  the  conversation  was 
disjointed,  and  a  little  constrained,  when  it  occasionally  became 
general.  After  dinner  there  was  music,  Miss  Blane  being  gifted 
with  a  beautiful  voice,  and  Annerly  having  been  betrayed  by 
Merland  as  qualified  "  to  do  anything  with  a  piano,"  so  that  he 
was  made  to  play  her  accompaniments. 

•'  I  never  knew  he  played,"  Mrs.  Miller  said  to  Merland. 

"  It  never  came  out  while  we  were  in  India,  I  suppose,  but 
he  really  does  play  splendidly,  only  he  hates  to  do  it  before  people. 
It  isn't  swagger  with  him,  you  know  ;  it  is  simply  that  he  hates 
putting  himself  forward.  It  is  real  torment  to  him  to  make 
him  play  pieces  in  company,  but  he  can  play  no  end  of  Beeth- 
oven and  Wagner  and  that  sort  of  thing,  really." 

Miss  Blane  meanwhile  had  thanked  him  for  an  accompani- 
ment that  she  had  been  able  to  lean  upon  comfortably.  "  I 
don't  think  I  ever  found  anybody  before  to  accompany  me  like 
that  the  first  time." 

**  It  was  easy,"  said  Annerly,  with  nervous  self-disparage- 
ment ;  "  you  sing  as  if  you  liked  it." 

From  this  point  of  departure  they  were  soon  deep  in  a 
musical  talk.  Annerly  admitted  that  he  had  played  a  great 
deal  at  Cambridge — his  one  great  recreation  there,  though  he 
never  practised.  However,  he  was  drawn  into  illustrating  the 
conversation  with  some  fragments  which  inspired  Miss  Blane 
with  respect  for  his  musical  acquirements,  and  drawn  then, 
even  less  willingly  into  some  criticism  of  her  singing,  which 
emphasised  this  feeling  still  more. 

**  I  see  it  is  a  question  of  getting  lessons  from  you,  Mr. 
Annerly,  while  we  are  here,"  she  said,  "if  you  will  be  kind 
enough  to  give  them." 

The  Baron  meanwhile  had  been  making  himself  agreeable 
after  dinner  to  Lady  Emily,  and  had  even  remained  by  her 
gide,  talking  to  her  and  to  Sir  John  Ilexton,  who  joined  them, 
until  the  evening  was  half  gone.  There  was  talk  of  a  nibber, 
into  the  service  of  v^hich  Lady  Emily  sought  to  beguile  her 


64  KABAfA. 

host.  This  he  evaded,  but  merely  on  the  ground  that  he  neyei 
played,  and  interested  himself  in  getting  up  her  game,  Tvhich 
was  eventually  completed  by  Blane  and  Mrs.  Miller.  Early  in 
the  proceedings  the  Professor  had  endeavoured  to  draw  him  off 
without  success,  and  then,  rather  nettled  at  finding  no  opening 
for  the  serious  inquiries  he  wished  to  put,  took  refuge  in  the 
library,  and  buried  himself  in  a  novel  The  rubber  over, 
Captain  Miller  came  in  search  of  him,  and  said  that  the  Baron 
and  some  of  the  other  men  were  going  up  to  smoke,  but  he 
declared  himself  too  deeply  engrossed  with  his  book  to  leave  it 
just  then,  and  eventually  went  to  his  own  room  without  seeking 
any  further  society. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THB  HIGHER  LIFB. 

In  another  part  of  the  castle,  meanwhile,  Annerly  and  Merland 
had  been  exchanging  ideas  before  parting  for  the  night. 

"How  excited  you  look  to-night,  old  man,"  Merland  had 
said  as  they  were  shaking  hands  in  the  oorrider  in  front  of 
Annerly 's  room;  "the  singing  or  the  beautiful  songstress  has 
stirred  you  up  a  bit." 

♦*  Well,  come  in  a  moment  and  I'll  tell  you.  It  isn't  so 
much  the  music,  though  Miss  Blane  has  real  talent  and  feeling 
for  music,  that  has  stirred  me  up," — this  was  added,  of  course, 
after  they  had  gone  into  the  room  and  shut  tlie  door,  and  after 
Merland  was  established  in  the  arm-chair,  while  Annerly  kept 
standing  or  moving  about  restlessly — **it  is  the  Baron — the 
talk  I  had  with  him  this  afternoon — that  is  on  my  mind." 

"  And  what  was  that  about  1 " 

"  Strangely — very  strangely  as  between  you  and  me — there 
are  portions  of  that  conversation  that  I  must  not  describe  to 
you.  I  should  not  yesterday  have  been  able  to  imagine  myself 
having  any  concealments  from  you ;  and,  now  that  the  Baron 
has  told  me  something  that  I  am  not  at  Uberty  to  repeat  to 
any  one,  it  seems  to  me  more  nearly  approaching  the  usual 
•utire  confidence  that  there  is  between  us  for  me  to  tell  you 


THB  HIGHEB  LIPB.  65 

at  once  that  this  is  so,  rather  than  keep  you  In  fgnoranc©  oi 
the  fact  that  I  am  keeping  back  something  from  you." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  don't  imagine  for  a  moment  that  I  shall  be 
such  an  ass  as  to  be  hurt  at  the  Baron  telling  you  secrets  you 
mustn't  repeat.  I'm  delighted  to  hear  what  you  say.  It  shows 
that  the  Baron  appreciates  you,  and,  as  I  have  a  boundless 
admiration  for  him,  I  am  heartily  glad  that  he  does." 

"  Thanks,  your  nature  wouldn't  hold  a  mean  leeling,  even  if 
somebody  else  invented  it  for  you.  But  happily  I  can  tell  you 
— you  in  particular,  I  mean,  not  anybody  else — a  good  deal  of 
what  passed.  The  Baron  has  certainly  penetrated  deeper 
mysteries  than  we  have  ever  given  him  credit  for  having 
fathomed — " 

"  That  business  with  the  glass  to-day  shows  that  he  has — 
for  one  thing." 

"But  I  can  only  give  you  a  faint  idea  of  the  immensely 
elevated  character  of  the  mysteries  I  am  referring  to,  as  com- 
pared to  that  affair.  He  did  allude  to  that,  but  with  such 
pitiful  scorn — and  yet  not  in  a  bitter  way,  but  as  illustrating 
truths  of  such  a  humble  sort,  compared  to  others  of  which  he 
wanted  to  give  me  a  glimpse.  Summing  up  what  I  wanted  to 
say  to  you,  the  revelation  made  to  me,  as  far  as  I  can  repeat  it, 
is  this  : — At  the  first  glance  it  would  seem  that  people  who  are 
beginning  to  suspect  in  these  days  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
a  psychic  side  to  nature,  and  who  feel  attracted  to  inquire  into 
many  things  which  other  people  hitherto  have  distrusted,  may 
be  governed  by  a  love  of  knowledge  as  praiseworthy  as  that 
which  impels  other  people  to  study  physical  science  or  history. 
Well ;  that  view  of  the  matter  is  a  total  misconception  of  the 
whole  thing.  The  pursuit  of  psychic  knowledge,  merely  for 
its  own  sake,  as  knowledge  to  be  turned  to  any  account  that 
may  seem  useful,  like  any  other  sort  of  knowledge,  is  fore- 
doomed to  failure.  Not  to  entire  failure,  but  that  line  of 
inquiry  is  a  cul  de  aac.  A  man  who  treads  it,  and  keeps 
to  it  alone,  must  come  to  grief  sooner  or  later.  The  true 
psychic  knowledge  is  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  which  is 
held  back  for  a  time  from  man,  but  is  not  held  back  for  ever. 
It  is  attainable  in  this  life  to  an  extent  I  never  before  dreamed 
possible.  That  is  what  the  Baron  has  convinced  me  of,  and 
that  is  what  I  am  at  liberty  to  assure  you  of  as  my  conviction — 
if  I  may  say  so— without  making  you  distrust  my  judgment 


66  KABMA. 

altogether;  I  will  add  my  suddenly  developed  certainty. 
Psychic  knowledge,  occult  science,  call  it  what  you  will,  is  the 
most  stupendous  acquirement  of  man  after  he  has  fully  come 
into  possession  of  his  reason.  The  fact  that  it  expands  our 
comprehension  of  the  physical  nature  round  us,  though  it  is 
calculated  to  do  this  to  an  extraordinary  extent,  is  as  nothing 
compared  to  the  fact  that  it  expands  our  comprehension  of 
ourselves ;  of  that  which  is  within,  above,  superior  to  us,  use 
what  form  of  words  you  like,  always  remembering  that  they 
have  a  miserable  trick  of  materialising  and  localising  spiritual 
ideas,  ^hich  is  an  accident  accruing  from  their  ordinary  use, 
and  not  their  proper  psychic  sense." 

Merland  listened,  almost  more  impressed  by  the  fervour  of 
Annerly's  manner  than  by  the  words  he  used. 

"  You  are  putting  into  definite  language  what  I  think  I  have 
vaguely  felt  to  be  the  case  all  along ;  but  then  the  question  is, 
How  are  we  to  set  about  the  study  of  psychic  mysteries  of  the 
more  elevated  sort  1  All  philosophy  in  a  way  tends  towards  the 
analysis  of  good  and  evil ;  but  one  knows  quite  weU  a  man  may 
spend  his  life  in  philosophical  reading  and  thinking,  and  yet  at 
the  end  be  merely  the  better  off  for  having  a  somewhat  finer 
appreciation  of  metaphysical  subtleties  than  his  neighbours; 
and  the  only  new  departure  that  psychic  science  seems  to  make, 
appears  to  me  in  the  direction  of  understanding  new  forces  in 
nature,  rather  than  in  that  of  enlarging  ethical  and  religious 
conceptions." 

"  That  is  just  the  point.  The  psychic  inquiry  which  has  to 
do  with  the  outer  facts  of  psychic  phenomena,  is  the  cul  de  sac 
I  speak  of.  If  we  really  want  to  progress  with  the  true  psychic 
inquiry,  that  is  to  say,  to  obtain  real  knowledge  of  spiritual 
things,  of  our  own  ultimate  destinies,  and  the  scheme  of  human 
evolution  in  its  highest  sense,  we  must  start  on  a  different  plan 
altogether.  These  very  mysteries  concerning  natural  laws  not 
yet  explored,  which  are  too  high  above  the  head  of  the  common* 
place  materialist  for  him  to  realise  that  there  are  such  mysteries 
even,  are  too  far  below  the  region  of  thought  in  which  the  real 
psychic  student  must  travel,  for  him  to  pay  attention  to  them. 
An  aspiratioE  towards  spiritual  development  sufficiently  intense  tc 
become  a  real  force  in  a  man's  nature  conducive  to  true  enlighten- 
ment, must  be  in  the  direction  of  absolute  good,  of  absolute 
knowledge,  which  is  higher  than  knowledge  of  detail    WordS| 


THE   HIQH£B   LIFB.  67 

at  all  events  in  my  hands,  as  yet  seem  very  weak  Instruments  to 
convey  the  idea  I  dimly  apprehend.  But,  oddly  enough,  this 
highest  psychic  doctrine  seems  to  carry  us  back  to  some  of  the 
most  elementary  doctrines  of  ordinary  religion,  though  at  the 
same  time  under  its  influence  these  become  illuminated  with  an 
inner  meaning  they  never  possessed  before." 

*•  I'm  immensely  impressed  by  what  you  say,  but  I  don*t  see 
what  it  immediately  leads  to  ;  though  I'm  sure,  from  the  way  you 
speak,  that  you  do.  You  would  not  have  been  so  much  impressed 
unless  you  had  discovered  something  more  than  the  old  doctrine 
that  the  pursuit  of  good,  which  is,  doing  the  right  thing  the  best 
way  you  know  how,  is  better  than  the  things  of  this  world." 

"  One  acquiesced  in  that  theory  blindly,  at  first ;  occult  study 
or  psychic  science  is  calculated  to  show  us  how  it  works,  so  to 
speak.  All  that  the  religions  of  the  world,  so  far,  have  laid 
down  on  authority,  the  enlarged  wisdom  of  man,  developed 
along  the  psychic  path,  may  enable  him  to  reconstruct  out  of 
his  own  consciousness  with  clear  and  certain  confidence — casting 
aside,  with  no  less  confidence,  the  incrustations  of  error  which 
have  gathered  round  the  central  truths.  To  acquire  this  psychic 
knowledge  is  the  moral  coming  of  age  of  humanity,  and  with 
its  help  we  may  begin  a  religious  life  of  quite  a  new  kind.  Let 
me  try  and  make  this  idea  quite  plain.  What  is  it  that  makes  so 
many  of  the  best  men  stand  aside  from  what  is  ordinarily  called 
religion,  refusing  to  have  any  dealings  with  any  of  its  forms  and 
customs  1  Surely  it  is  that  they  cannot  stoop  to  tht  intellectual 
ignominy  of  bowing  down  before  the  obvious  strain  of  human  error 
that  runs  through  them  all.  There  is  always  a  something,  or 
some  group  of  conceptions  in  their  own  minds,  that  they  reve- 
rence ;  but  to  profess  reverence  for  prevailing  religious  tenets, 
and,  still  more,  to  practise  religious  ceremonial,  is  to  efi'ect  an 
intellectual  submission  to  human  teachers  whom  they  may 
clearly  see  to  be  their  intellectual  inferiors.  That  revolts  their 
sense  of  the  fitness  of  things,  though  they  may  not  always  want 
to  assert  what  dull-witted  people,  failing  to  understand  their 
position,  would  rebuke  as  intellectual  pride  and  foolishly  regard 
as  a  sin  against  the  principles  of  religion,  which  prescribe  a 
child-like  attitude  of  mind  in  approaching  what  they  would, 
perhaps,  call  the  throne  of  God,  and  what  others  might  call  the 
consideration  of  the  absolute.  The  pulpit  of  the  Reverend 
John  Smith  is  not  the  throne  of  God  and  his  sermon  is  not  the 

f  2 


08  KABMA. 

absolute  ;  that  fa  what  the  earlier  type  of  religions  pftople  forget 
The  priest,  in  all  his  aspects,  is  to  humanity  what  the  nursery 
governess  is  to  the  single  human  creature.  It  is  perfectly  right 
that  the  child  should  respect  the  nursery  governess  :  there  is  a 
period  in  his  life  when  she  can  teach  him.  And  there  is  no 
reason  why  he  should  ever  look  hack  upon  her  otherwise  than 
with  kindly  feeHngs  if  he  is  not  kept  under  her  instruction  too 
long ;  but  there  comes  a  period  in  life  when  he  must  have  other 
teaching  as  well." 

"  All  that  is  admirable ;  the  theory  of  the  whole  position  is 
perfect;  but  as  regards  the  application:  Where  is  the  other 
teaching  to  be  got,  and  who  are  the  teachers  1  There  may  be 
wiser  moral  teachers  in  the  world  than  our  clergy ;  but  still 
people  will  say  they  are  but  other  sorts  of  clergy  if  we  go  to 
them  for  religious  instruction." 

"  That  is  the  point.  Man,  on  coming  to  maturity,  does  not 
want  teachers;  he  has  that  within  himself  which,  developed 
properly,  enables  him  to  acquire  real  knowledge  of  religious 
truth,  of  good  and  evil,  of  the  absolute  verities  of  nature  at  the 
fountain-head  of  knowledge,  for  himself.  The  process  of  de- 
veloping this  inner  power  of  discerning  the  truth  is  psychic 
science.  For  the  purposes  of  such  development  one  may  need 
guides,  instructors,  masters  if  you  like,  but  the  teaching  of 
psychic  science  is  not  that  such  and  such  a  doctrine  is  to  be 
accepted  on  authority,  however  exalted;  but  that  such  and 
such  a  course  of  training  will  awaken  dormant  faculties  by 
means  of  which  truth  in  that  direction  can  be  perceived  by  a 
man  for  himself.  The  notion  is  dazzling  at  first.  It  is  not 
information  that  psychic  science  offers  in  regard  to  any  problem 
the  psychic  student  may  grapple  with ;  it  is,  if  I  may  coin  a 
paradoxical  phrase,  omniscience  ad  hoc  ;  knowledge  in  reference 
to  the  matter  in  question  of  the  sort  which,  if  conceived  as 
extending  to  all  matters,  would  be  omniscience.** 

"  But  where  are  the  guides — the  instructors  %  ** 

"  It  seems  absurd  to  answer  as  I  must,  and  yet  I  know  that 
it  is  not  absurd,  if  you  will  trust  me  :  that  is  what  every  man 
who  wants  their  help  must  find  out  for  himself.  But  let  us 
not  talk  to-night  of  even  the  first  stumbling-block  in  the  way. 
It  is  the  broad  idea  I  have  been  endeavouring  to  convey  to  you, 
more,  I  think,  than  anything  else  that  has  been  told  to  me,  that 
has  filled  my  whole  mind  with  a  new  light  to-day. 


THB   HIOHEB  LIFE.  69 

••  We  have  been  labouring  after  knowledge,  as  It  seems  to  me, 
hitherto  under  the  impression  that  it  is  to  be  obtained  by  more 
thinking,  more  study,  more  collected  evidence  along  the  old  lines 
— that  is  to  say,  with  the  help  of  the  old  faculties,  by  means  of 
the  Human  Understanding  that  Locke  wrote  about.  Now  I 
realise  that,  for  the  acquisition  of  the  higher  knowledge,  it  is  a 
higher  sort  of  understanding  that  is  needed ;  and  that  this 
higher  sort  is  attainable — not  by  the  mere  extra  polish  of  the  old 
understanding,  but  by  taking  a  new  departure.  This  is  the 
meaning  of  the  sign  held  out  to  men,  so  to  speak,  by  the  abnor- 
mal manifestations  of  various  kinds  that  have  turned  the  atten- 
tion of  so  many  thinking  men  at  the  present  day  into  the  paths 
of  psychic  study,  though  few  of  them,  I  fancy,  realise,  as  yet, 
where  those  paths  are  destined  to  lead  them.  Take  the  simple 
and  beautiful  experiment  of  thought  transference.  It  is  proved 
by  a  thousand  experiments  that  ideas,  words,  pictures  can  be 
conveyed  to  the  perception  of  sensitives  by  channels  of  commu- 
nication, which  are  not  those  of  the  senses.  A  quoi  bon  9  asks 
the  crass  materialist.  Have  we  not  got  eyes  to  see  such  things 
still  more  clearly  1  It  is  the  hint  conveyed,  not  the  thing  done, 
which  is  of  supreme  importance.  If  the  human  perception,  con- 
trary to  earlier  philosophies,  turns  out  to  be  accessible  to  other 
impressions  than  those  of  the  senses,  the  barriers  of  what  has 
hitherto  been  the  *  Unknowable '  are  broken  do^vn.  And  there 
is  no  *  if '  in  the  matter ;  that  much  has  been  demonstrated.  The 
barriers  are  down.  The  human  understanding  stands  possessed 
of  the  order  of  release  from  its  prison.  All  we  have  to  do  is  to 
take  advantage  of  our  freedom,  and,  as  the  world  is  wide  com- 
pared to  a  prison,  so  is  the  knowledge  stretching  out  before  the 
psychic  understanding,  vast  compared  to  that  which  has  been 
acquired  by  the  teaching  of  the  senses.  The  exhilaration  of  the 
idea  is  so  great  to  me,  that,  whatever  practical  difficulties  may 
be  in  the  way  of  a  man  seeking  to  take  advantage  of  the  freedom 
offered,  I  can  only  feel  that  they  shall  go  down  before  my 
determination  to  cross  them." 


70  KABIU. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  BEAUTIFUL  MISS  VAUGHIW. 

Merland  awote  next  morning  with  a  sense  of  some  great 

event  having  happened.  The  consciousness  of  having  taken 
a  new  departure  in  life,  which  Annerly  had  exhibited  the 
previous  evening  so  forcibly,  had  passed  to  a  certain  extent  into 
his  own  mind;  and  he  felt  the  pleasant  inspiration  of  a  new 
interest,  which  presented  itself  to  him  as  altogether  sunny  and 
attractive.  The  course  before  him  leading  to  the  inner  cit  idel 
of  those  psychic  mysteries,  which  had  latterly  fascinated  his 
imagination,  was  not  quite  plainly  marked  out,  but  Annerly 
evidently  saw  his  way,  and  Merland  was  long  used  to  following 
his  lead  in  study.  That  this  vigorous  companion  was  always 
pushing  on  ahead,  and  dealing  the  paths  they  trod  together, 
was  merely  one  of  the  fortunate  circumstances  of  his  life, 
which  he  habitually  enjoyed  without  thinking  much  about 
it.  As  he  looked  out  from  his  elevated  window  over  the 
windings  of  the  green  river  and  the  wooded  slopes  of  its  pic- 
turesque banks,  the  inner  working  of  Nature's  laws  seemed  just 
ready  to  disclose  itself  to  him :  he  felt  as  though  aheady  on 
the  shore  of  the  older  knowledge,  and  on  the  point  of  embark- 
ing in  the  vessel  which  Annerly  had  discovered,  on  the  unknown 
waters  stretching  beyond.  The  voyage  invited  him  rather  aa 
a  species  of  intellectual  yachting,  than  as  perilous  or  disagreeable 
navigation.  And  in  better  spirits  if  possible  than  usual,  ready 
as  ever  to  give  out  pleasure  to  others,  as  an  emanation  from  his 
bright  and  happy  temperament,  and  at  the  same  time  to  draw 
it  in  from  the  current  of  Ufe  around  him,  as  the  plants  take 
nourishment  from  the  air,  he  came  down  to  breakfast,  where 
Captain  Jem  was  regaling  himself  aheady  on  a  frugal  cup  of 
tea  and  a  slice  of  toast.  The  Captain  was  not  a  man  who 
breakfasted  lightly  because  he  had  dined  heavily  overnight, 
but  on  the  contrary  was  content  with  little,  because  his  habits 
were  so  utterly  frugal  at  all  times  that  he  had  unconsciously 
habituated  himself  to  live  on  less  food  than  his  fellovir-creatuiet 
geneially  required* 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   MISS   VAUGHAN.  71 

"Dear  old  Jem,"  said  Merland,  "what  an  anchorite  you  arel 
Why  don't  you  peg  into  that  cold  pie  a  bit  t " 

*•  I  would  if  I  wanted  to,  you  bet.  But  I'm  a  sybarite  in  my 
own  way.  I  should  never  get  the  pleasure  I  do  out  of  tea  and 
brown-bread  toast  if  I  was  always  wiring  into  game-pies  and 
filets  de  bceuf.  But  do  you  eat  what  comes  in  your  way,'* 
pushing  the  pie  in  front  of  him,  "  and  don't  encourage  yourself 
in  being  an  epicure  like  me." 

"I  say,  but  how  comes  it  you  are  so  frightfully  hungry  that 
you  haven't  been  able  to  wait  for  anybody  this  morning,  but 
have  begun  gorging  on  toast  all  by  yourself  1 " 

"  The  Admiral's  despatches,  Claude,  leave  me  no  time  to 
waste.  I've  got  to  go  to  Barenburg  to  meet  the  Vaughans. 
They've  written  to  say  they  are  coining  down  by  the  first  boat 
I  must  be  off  out  of  this  in  half  an  hour.     Come  too ! " 

In  this  way  it  came  to  pass  that  Merland  had  a  good  hour 
and  a  half  of  the  beautiful  Lucy  Vaughan's  society  all  to  himself 
before  her  arrival  at  the  castle,  as  Captain  Jem  devoted  himself 
altogether,  from  the  moment  they  joined  the  steamer  at  Baren- 
burg, to  the  service  of  the  elder  lady.  Miss  Vaughan  amused 
herself  with  a  small  sketch-book  in  taking  hunicd  notes  of  the 
river  views  as  they  went  by,  Merland  threw  himself  with 
enthusiasm  into  the  minor  duties  associated  with  the  under- 
taking, supplying  the  artist  with  ready-dipped  brushes,  holding 
the  water-bottle  and  moist-colour  box,  and  suggesting  forgotten 
details  as  the  progress  of  the  boat  distorted  or  obliterated  the 
view  of  each  "  instantaneous  colourgraph  "  in  turn.  Above  all, 
he  basked  the  whole  time  in  the  glowing  loveliness  of  his  fair 
companion's  animated  face,  serving  up  the  local  legends  for  her 
benefit,  with  rich  additions  to  the  meagre  outlines  in  the  guide- 
books. Of  course  he  gave  her,  amongst  the  number,  the  legend 
of  the  Heiligenfels  dungeon,  as  told  by  Annerly  on  the  occasion 
of  the  now  famous  evening  visit  paid  to  that  place  by  Miss 
Blane,  and  also  an  account  of  all  that  afterwards  came  of  it.  Miss 
Vaughan  gave  the  whole  story  her  rapt  attention.  It  was  just 
the  kind  of  thing,  she  declared,  that  would  naturally  happen  in 
Baion  Fried  rich's  castle. 

"  I  do  hope  we  shall  have  some  more  exciting  events  of  that 
kind  while  we  are  there." 

"  We  have  had  more  already,"  Merland  explained,  going  on 
to  describe  the  incident  with  the  glass  on  the  previous  day. 


72  EABMA. 

"  Why,  It's  an  enchanted  castle,  altogether.  I  never,  !n  my 
life,  was  so  interested  in  anything  before." 

First-rate  opportunities  for  instantaneous  colourgraphs  were 
neglected,  as  questions  and  explanations  succeeded.  Without 
attempting  to  reproduce  the  whole  of  the  new  view  of  psychic 
study  that  Annerly  had  put  before  him  the  previous  night, 
Merland  drew  upon  it  sufficiently  to  dignify  and  ennoble  the 
account  he  gave  of  the  proper  aims  and  objects  of  such  study. 

Miss  Vaughan's  enthusiastic  temperament  readily  took  fire. 
Merland  hardly  knew  whether  he  was  most  impressed  by  the 
ardour  of  her  character  as  exhibited  in  the  course  of  her  conver- 
sation, her  bright  intelligence,  her  sympathy  with  the  happy- 
hearted  zeal  for  new  knowledge  along  the  strange  path  now 
apparently  opening  out  before  them,  or  by  her  great  and  glowing 
beauty,  manifested  not  merely  in  the  rich  colouring  of  her  com- 
plexion and  her  deep-blue  eyes,  but  in  the  general  magnificence 
of  her  physique ;  for  Miss  Vaughan,  as  already  mentioned,  was 
a  girl  of  stately  proportions,  whose  charms  struck  the  hearts  of 
men  attuned  to  them  as  with  a  lightning  flash.  She  did  not 
require  to  be  seen  several  times  in  order  to  be  appreciated — as 
may  be  the  case  with  some  women  whose  fascinations  are  of 
a  difi'erent  order.  Hers  were  of  the  kind  that  burst  upon 
spectators  in  full  splendour  all  at  once. 

And  their  influence  on  Merland  was  perhaps  all  the  greater 
from  the  fact  that  the  young  man  did  not  understand  the  situa- 
tion all  at  once,  having,  so  far,  gone  through  life  without  having 
been  seriously  in  love. 

A  very  susceptible  temperament  recognises  its  own  wounds 
the  moment  they  are  inflicted  ;  but  in  the  conviction,  bom  of 
experience,  that  it  may  be  wounded  many  times  again  in  fresh 
places,  has  a  certain  sub-consciousness  all  the  whUe  that  few 
such  wounds  are  likely  to  bleed  for  ever. 

Merland,  however,  reached  the  castle  in  the  beautiful  Lucy's 
company  dazzled  and  delighted ;  but  merely,  for  the  moment, 
overwhelmed  with  the  feeling  that  she  was  indeed  a  magnificent 
creature,  without  referring  this  fact  to  his  own  personality  in 
any  way. 

The  Baron  was  waiting  to  receive  the  Vaughans  at  the  outer 
gate  of  the  castle  when  they  got  up,  and  Lucy  gaily  compli- 
mented him  on  the  great  improvement  in  his  manners  wrought 
by  the  influence  of  his  ancestral  air. 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   MI5S   VAUOHIN.  73 

**  In  London,  you  know,  you  ran  away  from  me  always  as  if 
I  had  the  plague,  but  here  you  actually  meet  me  half-way. 
Baron  Friedrich  has  got  quite  tame,  mamma  " — to  her  mother  a 
few  steps  behind — "  a  child  might  play  with  him." 

"  Heiligenfels  surrenders  to  you,  Miss  Vaughan,  without 
making  terms,  and  I  am  here  at  the  gate  to  announce  my  sub- 
mission." 

"  I'll  consider  what  shall  be  your  fate  at  leisure,  and  mean- 
while you  shall  show  me  over  the  fortress  I  have  so  gallantly 
conquered  from  the  turrets  to  the  dungeons.  It  looks  the 
most  perfectly  enchanting  place  I  ever  saw,  not  to  say  en- 
chanted." 

Baron  Friedrich  had  no  need  to  reply  with  more  than  a  kindly 
emile.  Mrs.  Vaughan  was  gracefully  expressing  the  confidence 
in  his  invariable  coiu'tesy  which  had  induced  her  to  accept  Mrs. 
Miller's  invitation,  and  withdrew  his  attention  from  Lucy  by 
taking  his  arm  and  passing  with  him  across  the  courtyards  to 
the  main  entrance.  Few  women  embodied  more  emphatic 
claims  to  be  treated  with  the  highest  consideration  on  all  hands 
than  Mrs.  Vaughan.  Even  her  brilliant  daughter  would  rarely 
fail  to  render  her  the  respect  due  to  her  quiet  dignity  as  a 
grande  dame,  however  gaily  this  might  be  modernised  in  its  out- 
ward expression.  Lucy  fell  now  into  the  background  between 
Merland  and  Captain  Jem.  There  were  flower-beds  in  the 
outer  courtyard,  to  be  appreciated  as  they  went  along,  and  points 
of  view  from  the  low  battlements,  the  terraces  along  which  were 
easily  approached  by  flights  of  open  steps ;  and  through  the 
openings  between  the  battlements,  in  one  place,  they  passed 
into  a  large  conservatory  built  outside  the  old  walls  on  a  con- 
venient lump  of  rock,  and  commanding  a  grand  view  down  the 
Rhine,  with  the  SielDengebirge  far  off  in  the  distance.  Here 
they  disturbed  the  studious  seclusion  of  another  visitor  ensconced 
in  a  cane  arm-chair,  and  pondering  deeply  over  a  book  on  his 
knees — the  boy  Eeginald  Hexton.  He  got  up  as  they  came 
into  the  conservatory  and  greeted  the  Captain  with  the  easy 
confidence  of  a  man  of  the  world  rather  than  the  awkwardness 
of  a  boy,  though  with  a  quiet  simplicity  of  manner  that  robbed 
his  self-possession  of  all  flavour  of  juvenile  presumption. 
Greatly  struck  by  his  appearance,  Lucy  immediately  exacted 
further  information,  had  him  presented  to  her,  and  asked  him 
what  he  was  reading. 


74  KABMA. 

"  I  am  studying  it  rather  than  reading  it,"  he  said,  putting  it 
into  her  outstretched  hand. 

**  Why,  it's  an  unknown  tongue.     What  characters  are  those  t " 

"Sanscrit." 

"You've  begun  deep  learning  very  soon  in  life/'  she  said. 
"  Can  you  read  Sanscrit  1 " 

"  A  little,  and  my  uncle  explains  it  to  me  sometimes." 

"  And  do  you  Hke  that  better  than  play  ? " 

**  I  never  think  of  play  when  I  am  trying  to  understand  that 
book." 

"What  book  is  it  1" 

"  It's  an  Eastern  poem — the  Bhagavat  Gita." 

"Is  it  pretty?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  never  thought  about  it  that  way,  but  it's 
very  interesting — what  I  can  understand  of  it." 

Miss  Vaughan  declared  afterwards  that  her  breath  was  taken 
away  to  that  extent,  by  finding  a  boy  in  jackets  reading  Sanscrit 
for  his  own  pleasure,  that  she  was  unable  to  carry  on  the  conver- 
sation further.  They  completed  their  tour  of  the  points  of  view, 
and  ultimately  joined  the  rest  of  the  party  on  the  terrace, 
Merland  more  absorbed  than  ever  in  the  views  he  obtained  the 
while  of  his  fair  companion. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE   baron's   explanation. 

Baron    Friedrioh  found  an  opportunity  during  the    day  of 

removing  from  Professor  Massilton's  mind  the  impression  that  he 
had  purposely  avoided  a  conversation  with  him  the  previous 
evening.  He  spoke  of  the  regi-et  with  which  he  had  felt  bound, 
as  a  host,  to  put  Sir  John  Hexton  at  his  ease  again,  after  the 
little  incident  of  the  afternoon,  which  had  brought  him  into  a 
momentarily  disagreeable  position. 

"If  he  did  feel,"  said   the  Professor,   "that  Blane  and  I 


THB  baeon's  explanation.  7B 

snubbed  him,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  he  felt  also,  on  reflection 
that  he  deserved  a  snubbing." 

"Ah,  well,"  said  the  Baron,  "  if  it  comes  to  that,  we  all  doubt- 
less deserve  what  happens  to  us,  whatever  it  may  be,  but  that 
hardly  relieves  us  of  the  duty  of  softening  the  disagreeables  of 
life  for  one  another  as  much  as  possible." 

The  Professor  was  always  ready  to  take  up  any  statement 
involving  a  general  principle. 

"  You  make  a  very  large  admission  when  you  say  that, 
Baivn,"  he  answered.  "  It  amounts  to  saying  that  the  wretched 
must  always  have  been  the  sinful,  which  would  be  a  hard 
doctrine  to  apply  to  much  of  thesutfering  in  the  world." 

"A  doctrine  of  course  which  would  be  transparently  absurd  if 
we  assumed  that  the  suffering  we  see  is  a  consequence  of  sin 
committed  in  the  same  life.  But  may  it  not  be  reasonable  if  we 
proceed  on  the  hypothesis  that  every  man  is  reborn  on  earth 
again  and  again  under  conditions  which  are  the  logical  residt 
of  the  life  he  leads  each  time  % " 

"  Ah  1 "  said  Blane,  who  was  with  them,  the  conversation 
taking  place  in  the  library  in  the  afternoon  ;  "  re-incamation  is 
undoubtedly  the  clue  to  a  great  many  of  the  mysteries  of  life  ; 
and  many  advanced  thinkers  are  coming,  I  think,  to  recognise  it 
as  their  only  possible  solution.  But  the  vrorld  at  large  wants 
better  proof  of  it  than  its  mere  logical  necessity." 

"The  world  at  large,"  said  the  Baron,  "will  probably  have 
to  do  without  that  proof  for  some  time  longer,  but  the  advanced 
thinkers  may  very  easily  find  the  inferences  you  speak  of 
strengthened  till  they  become  absolute  convictions  on  the 
subject.  Re-incarnation  must  eventually  be  recognised  by  men 
whose  open  minds  desire  the  truth,  as  the  crown  and  comple- 
ment of  evolution  already  recognised  in  physiology." 

"  You  mean,"  said  the  Professor,  "  that  the  inequalities  of 
welfare  will  then  be  supplied  with  a  moral  justification, — that 
every  man  is  born  to  a  fate,  roughly  speaking,  which  he  has 
earned  for  himself  in  his  last  life." 

"  You  have  said  it  for  me  with  a  precision  which  shows  that 
your  own  thinking  has  already  tended  in  that  direction." 

"All  thinking  men,  I  fan  ry,"  said  the  Professor,  "embrace 
nearly  all  that  can  be  thought  on  such  subjects  in  the  range  of 
their  conjectures.  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  follow  out  the  idea 
with  you  further  some  time,  but  for  the  moment  we  have  some 


T^  KAEMA. 

more  immediately  practical  matters  in  hand.  A  new  fact  In 
Nature  is  more  fascinating  to  me  than  even  a  new  speculation 
in  metaphysics;  and  I  readily  confess  that  my  catalogue  of 
Nature's  facts  does  not  furnish  me  with  an  explanation  of  the 
control  you  apparently  exercise  over  some  electrical  phenomena 
of  an  unusual  kind,  if  the  effects  you  produced  yesterday  may 
be  treated  as  electrical  phenomena." 

"  My  dear  Professor,"  said  the  Baron,  **  your  remark  implies 
a  question  which  I  shall  meet  with  the  utmost  frankness.  I 
have  been  made  acquainted  with  some  facts  of  Nature  that  are 
not  yet  generally  known,  but  I  have  been  taught  some  part  of 
what  I  know  in  this  direction,  under  pledges  of  secrecy  which 
preclude  me  from  explaining  certain  things  to  you  as  fully  as 
it  would  have  been  my  delight  to  have  done  if  I  had  been 
entirely  free  from  such  restrictions.  In  casual  talk  I  had  with 
you  in  London  I  shrank  from  even  saying  this  much,  because 
it  can  only  be  in  the  leisure  of  prolonged  conversation  with 
you,  that  I  can  hope  to  make  my  position  in  this  respect  seem 
otherwise  than  absurd  and  irrational  And  I  am  anxious  that 
it  should,  on  the  contrary,  seem  intelligible  and  reasonable." 

**  A  promise  is  a  promise,  of  course ;  and  no  one  who  knows 
you  would  expect  you  to  treat  one  lightly.  But  it  does  seem 
incomprehensible,  on  the  face  of  things,  that  any  maD  who  has 
made  a  discovery  in  natural  science  should  exact  a  promise 
of  secrecy  in  expounding  it,  grudging  his  fellow -creatures 
their  share  of  the  knowledge  thus  committed  to  his  unworthy 
custody." 

**  A  very  natural  view  of  the  matter ;  but  one  that  I  hope  to 
show  you  reason  to  modify.  That  little  experiment  we  tried 
yesterday  involved  a  very  small  result,  but  a  principle  may  be 
applied  in  more  ways  than  one.  We  made  a  glass  ring  yes- 
terday ;  suppose  we  augment  the  force  then  employed  in  one 
more  experiment  to-day,  and  see  what  happens.  Will  you 
choose  one  of  those  panes  of  glass  in  the  window  there,  and  I 
will  deal  with  it  in  the  same  way  that  I  influenced  the  goblet 
yesterday — only  with  more  vehemence." 

The  Professor  indicated  one  of  the  panes  of  glass,  and  the 
Baron  remained  for  a  few  moments  as  if  in  deep  thought. 
Then  he  lifted  his  hand  and  made  a  gesture  in  the  direction  of 
the  window,  and  the  pane  of  glass  selected  was  shattered  as 
if  a  bullet  had  been  fired  through  it. 


THE  baron's  explanation.  77 

"  That  force  could  be  turned,"  said  the  Baron,  "  as  easily 
against  a  man's  body  as  against  a  window-pane.  And  it  could 
be  directed  — I  will  not  say  as  easily — but  it  could  be  directed 
from  almost  any,  at  all  events  from  very  considerable,  distances. 
Those  who  were  good  enough  to  entrust  me  with  a  compre- 
hension of  it  would  not  trust  me  with  the  right  to  make  the 
secret  of  it  public  for  anybody  to  hlindle  it  as  his  interests  or 
passions  might  suggest." 

Both  Blane  and  the  Professor  sat  silent  for  a  while.  Even 
the  Professor,  who  was  not  easily  overcome  by  emotion,  was 
too  startled  to  comment  at  once  on  what  had  happened. 

The  Baron  spoke  again,  indeed,  before  they  had  either  of 
them  uttered  a  word. 

"  If  you  will  permit  me  to  suggest,"  he  said,  **  I  think  it  would 
be  better,  even  though  we  have  been  doubtful  about  the  good 
taste  of  too  much  secrecy,  to  say  nothing  of  this  incident  to  our 
other  friends  here  at  present.  It  is  not  quite  without  a  certain 
sacrifice  of  an  energy  that  can  only  be  stored  by  degrees,  that 
efforts  of  this  sort  can  be  made.  My  effort  will  not  have  been 
thrown  away  if  it  has  induced  you  to  think  that  there  may 
be  more  good  sense  than  was  apparent  at  first  in  the  poli^cy  of 
keeping  some  sorts  of  knowledge  secret.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
I  cannot  repeat  it  frequently  to  satisfy  the  thirst  for  witnessing 
unusual  effects  of  that  sort,  without  a  sacrifice  quite  out  of 
harmony  with  the  purpose  in  view." 

"  I  shall  respect  your  wish  in  the  matter,"  said  Blane, 
"  without  hesitation." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  Professor ;  "  you  are  quite  entitled  to 
put  a  seal  of  confidence  on  any  communication  you  make, 
whether  by  words  or  acts.  As  for  the  question  we  had  before  us 
— whether  it  is  wise,  on  the  whole,  to  keep  back  knowledge  from 
mankind  for  fear  it  might  be  misused — that  may  still  be  open 
to  consideration.  You  have  employed  a  cogent  argument  in 
favour  of  reticence — that  I  admit.  But  whether  mankind 
might  not  be  the  better  in  the  long  run  for  taking  the  new 
knowledge  with  all  its  dangers,  is  disputable  still.  Its  very 
misuse,  for  a  time,  might  have  a  great  educational  effect  on  the 
race  eventually." 

"  If  the  occult  forces,  those  which  are  hidden  from  mere 
physical  research,  carried  with  them  nothing  worse  than  the 
power  of  mischief  I  have  shown  you,  the  question  might,  as 


78  KARMA. 

you  say,  be  disputable ;  but  they  are  manifold  and  very  dan- 
gerous, believe  me.  My  friends,  this  will  not  be  the  only 
conversation  we  shall  have  on  these  topics,  and  I  know,  both 
that  I  have  reasons  to  put  before  you  which  are  forcible,  and 
that  your  minds  are  of  the  order  which  cannot  but  accept  the 
force  of  reason.  For  my  part  I  recognize  to  the  full  the 
profound  good  sense  of  the  strict  provisions  under  which  I  have 
been  permitted  to  acquire  the  faculties,  such  as  they  are,  which 
I  possess ;  but  those  provisions  have  been  just  so  far  relaxed  in 
my  case,  for  a  time,  that  I  am  enabled  to  show  you  practically 
that  such  faculties  exist.  It  is  with  a  purpose  in  view  that 
this  relaxation  has  been  conceded.  What  I  have  just  done, 
the  exhibition  of  an  occult  faculty,  is,  in  itself,  an  act,  subject 
as  a  rule  to  the  severest  prohibitions." 

**  Pardon  me,"  said  the  Professor ;  "  prohibitions  emanating 
from  what  authority  1 " 

"  The  collective  will  of  the  persons  who  possess  these  faculties, 
and  enable  others,  one  by  one,  as  they  are  duly  qualified,  to 
acquire  them.  All  of  us  who  in  any  degree  aspire  to  graduate 
in  the  higher  mysteries  of  occult  science  come  under  the  opera- 
tion of  rules  which  represent  that  collective  will.  And,  as  I 
was  saying,  one  such  rule  is,  that  the  art  of  manipulating  the 
occult  forces  of  Nature  is  never  to  be  employed  for  the  purposes 
of  boastful  display  or  to  gratify  empty  curiosity." 

"  In  no  case  could  you  have  been  guilty  of  the  one,  nor  we  of 
the  other. 

**  Perhaps  not,  relatively  to  the  grosser  application  of  the 
phrases.  But  to  do  even  what  I  have  just  done,  for  the  mere 
sake  of  pointing  an  argument,  however  serious,  would  be  ob- 
noxious to  the  rule  I  speak  of.  That  has  been  put,  to  a  certain 
extent,  at  my  discretion,  because  I  have  been  privileged  to 
undertake  a  very  special  task.  It  is  desirable — more  desirable 
than  I  can  say  in  a  few  words  to-day — that  the  brilliant  scien- 
tific intellect  of  the  European  world  should  be  leavened  to  a 
greater  extent  than  it  is  leavened  at  present  by  a  sense  of  the 
value,  as  regards  the  interest  of  mankind  and  the  progress  of 
knowledge,  which  attaches  to  the  cultivation— of  what  is  hardly 
cultivated  at  present  in  the  West  at  all — of  spiritual  science. 
Now  how  is  that  result  to  be  brought  about  1 " 

"  There  is  no  doubt  whatever,"  said  the  Professor,  "  that  you 
can  bring  the  result  about.     After  what  you  have  shown  us  to- 


THE  baeon's  explanation,  79 

day,  yon  can  assemble  a  body  of  scientific  men  at  any  time  in 
London  and  convince  them  in  five  minutes  that  spiritual  science 
— if  it  is  by  such  means  that  you  exercise  these  extraordinary 
powers — is  something  exceedingly  well  worth  studying." 

*'  But  if  I  took  that  course  I  should  bring  about  a  result  very 
unlike  the  one  desired.  It  is  vx)t  desirable  that  spiritual  science 
should  be  studied  for  the  sake  of  the  control  over  physical 
nature  that  it  may  give  rise  to,  but  because  in  itself  it  is  a 
higher  pursuit  than  any  which  have  to  do  merely  with  the 
material  plane.  The  reach  and  scope  of  the  occult  sciences  is  so 
immeasurably  greater  than  those  of  physical  research,  that, 
though  they  incidentally  enlarge  our  comprehension  of  physical 
nature,  their  real  importance  has  to  do  with  the  light  tliey 
throw  on  our  moral  and  spiritual  life,  and  with  the  influence 
that  their  study  must  have  on  the  progress  of  our  future  develop- 
ment and  lives,  both  physical  and  spiritual.  It  would  degrade 
spiritual  science  to  an  extent  quite  revolting  to  its  devotees,  if 
it  were  pursued  to  any  considerable  extent  for  the  sake  of  its 
lower  victories  on  the  material  plane.  And  yet  in  its  narrowest 
aspect,  as  a  sublime  sort  of  physical  science,  it  must  be  recog- 
nised in  the  European  world  before  it  will  begin  to  influence 
the  hearts  and  morals  of  mankind  to  any  great  degree.  Here  is 
the  dilemma  in  which  I  am  placed  in  endeavouring  to  accom- 
plish my  task.  We  must  show  our  own  generation  first  of  all, 
by  evidence  of  a  kind  they  will  accept,  that  we  really  do  know 
something,  and  then,  having  secured  their  attention,  we  shall 
be  better  able  to  direct  it  upwards.  But  in  doing  this  we  run 
the  risk  of  merely  glorifying  and  stimulating  tendencies,  which 
must  in  the  end,  by  intensifying  their  materialism,  lead  men 
downward." 

"  But  surely  the  course  you  have  just  taken  with  me  is  one 
which  cannot  but  be  successful  with  any  group  of  influential 
men  you  wish  to  deal  with  it.  If  you  once  show  them  that  you 
undeniably  possess  faculties  of  a  very  wonderful  order,  they 
will  be  ready  enough  to  listen  to  whatever  you  want  to  say 
about  the  method  by  which  those  faculties  are  acquired." 

*'  Well ;  all  I  can  say  at  present  is,  that  such  a  course  of  action 
as  that  you  suggest  is  not  within  the  scope  of  the  discretion  I 
enjoy.  There  may  be  such  a  thing  as  efi'ecting  a  revolution  in 
thought  too  violently.  It  may  be  that  in  spite  of  this  conside- 
ration the  course  you  propose  would  be  a  good  one  and  would 


80  EABMA. 

not  turn  out  too  violent  in  its  results.  But  anyhow,  it  Is  out- 
side the  general  instructions  under  which  I  am  operating,  and 
cannot  be  undertaken.  What  I  am  at  liberty  to  do  is  to  pick 
out  a  few  men  who  may  be  qualified  to  get  a  hearing  from  the 
cultivated  world  on  the  subject,  and  enlist  their  sympathies  if 
possible  in  the  work  I  have  in  hand.  To  do  this  it  is  obvious 
that  some  credentials  must  be  exhibited  to  show  the  broad  fact 
that  students  of  occult  science  have  a  message  to  impart,  and 
this  is  how  it  comes  that  to  a  very  limited  degree  the  rules  that 
would  otherwise  have  restrained  me  have  been  relaxed." 


CHAPTER  XIL 

A  PEESH   DEVELOPMENT. 

The  life  of  the  castle  went  on  for  a  few  days  after  the  Vaughans' 
arrival  without  any  remarkable  events  of  a  kind  to  affect  the 
entire  party.  The  Baron  divided  his  time  among  the  different 
interests  his  guests  represented  ;  sometimes  joining  an  excursion 
to  some  neighbouring  place  of  attraction  on  the  river,  sometimes 
going  for  a  walk  in  the  woods  with  Blane  and  the  Professor, 
sometimes  spending  a  part  of  the  day  in  his  little  private 
study,  on  which  occasions  more  than  once  he  asked  Annerly  to 
join  him.  Mrs.  Vaughan,  moreover,  sometimes  secured  his 
companionship  for  conversations  apart  from  the  general  society 
of  the  castle,  and  other  combinations  were  struck  out  each  morn- 
ing and  afternoon,  in  a  manner  which  forbade  the  fear  that  any 
of  the  guests  would  find  the  proceedings  monotonous. 

For  Merland  there  was  little  fear  indeed  that  the  time  would 
hang  heavily  on  hand.  A  new  interest  had  entered  into  his 
life  which  suddenly  expanded  with  a  new  glory,  as  a  great  flower 
might  all  at  once  bloom  into  radiance.  Lucy  Vaughan's  glow 
ing  beauty  was  the  sunshine  that  had  wrought  this  momentous 
change.  He  was  too  much  dazzled  to  be  conscious  of  making 
love  to  her  with  any  set  purpose,  and  the  perfect  simplicity  of 
his  attitude  towards  her  disarmed  the  girl  of  the  weapon  she 


A   PEESH    DEVELOPMENT.  81 

might  otherwise  have  instinctively  employed  to  ward  off  a 
more  accomplished  attack,  lie  talked  with  her  almost  entirely 
of  the  vivid  interests  that  had  been  awakened  by  the  abnor- 
mal events  of  the  past  few  days,  and  the  conversations 
that  had  taken  place  between  himself  and  Annerly.  With 
no  one  else  could  she  talk  of  these  things  so  frankly  or  so 
fully.  In  their  several  ways  most  of  the  other  guests  were 
preoccupied.  For  private  conversation  with  the  Baron  him- 
self, few  opportunities  fell  in  her  way.  In  the  temporary 
separation  into  couples  which  sometimes  broke  up  larger  groups 
where  these  were  formed  for  excursions  about  the  neighbour- 
hood, her  mother  usually  secured  him  for  her  own  share  j^  and 
Lucy  found  herself  less  disconcerted  at  this  arrangement  than 
she  would  have  expected,  had  she  foreseen  it.  For  with  her, 
as  with  most  of  the  other  guests,  expectation  had  somehow 
been  raised  in  connection  with  the  present  visit,  and  she  had 
come  to  the  castle  in  the  hope  of  enjoying  a  closer  intimacy 
with  its  master  than  she  had  been  able  to  form  during  the 
whirl  of  the  London  season.  Her  interest  in  the  strange 
attributes  vaguely  reputed  to  belong  to  him  was  in  no  way 
lessened ;  but  she  was  conscious  of  learning  more  of  these  at 
second-hand  from  Merland  than  she  would  have  been  able  to 
extract  from  the  Baron  himself.  And  she  did  not  stop  to 
consider  how  far  her  delight  in  hearing  of  the  wonderful 
possibilities  stretching  out  before  students  of  the  occult  sciences 
was  enhanced  by  discussing  them  with  an  enthusiast  whose 
ardour  was  blended  with  an  enthusiastic  admiration  for  herself, 
colouring  all  his  own  speculations  with  the  aspects  of  the  new 
knowledge  as  they  seemed  especially  to  affect  her. 

And  in  dealing  with  her  Merland  was  checked  by  no  feeling 
that  he  was  talking  down  to  a  lower  intellectual  level  than  his 
own.  The  young  man  poured  out  all  he  knew  for  her  enter- 
tainment and  instruction,  and  confided  to  her  in  the  fullest 
measure  the  plans  and  hopes  connected  with  the  new  discoveries 
they  all  seemed  on  the  brink  of  making,  that  had  been  stirring 
in  his  imagination  at  the  moment  he  made  her  acquaintance. 

Annerly,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  put  a  very  exalted  com- 
plexion upon  the  objects  of  occult  study  in  the  course  of  the 
sketch  he  had  given  his  friend  of  his  first  important  interview 
with  Baron  Friedrich.  Merland  modified  this  more  than  he 
was  aware  of,  at  the  time,  in  transferring  it  to  the  visions  ho 


82  KABMiL. 

conjured  np  in  conversation  with  Miss  Vaughan ;  but  neither 
he  nor  she  perceived  the  touch  of  earthly  passion  infused  into 
its  lofty  spirituality,  as  he  pictured  a  progress  towards  higher 
ideals  than  young  men  generally  form.  These  he  unconsciously 
developed  so  as  to  render  them  compatible  with  the  glowing 
happiness  of  ordinary  love.  Lucy  Vaughan  was  only  struck 
with  the  great  elevation  of  his  aspirations  above  those  which 
the  common  pleasure-seekers  she  usually  lived  amongst,  were 
governed  by. 

Women  are  generally  readier  than  most  men  to  recognise  the 
beauty  of  elevated  aims  in  life ;  and,  gay  young  lady  of  fashion 
though  Miss  Vaughan  was,  her  higher  instincts,  only  exercised 
though  they  had  been  so  far  in  commonplace  country  charities 
and  kindly  interest  in  the  poor  about  her  mother's  property, 
were  easily  roused  to  inspire  to  her,  for  the  time  being  at  least, 
with  far  stronger  motives  of  action  than  the  ambitions  of  a 
worldly  life. 

"It  ie  an  old-standing  joke  between  my  mother  and  me," 
she  said,  "  that  I  mean  to  be  a  sister  of  mercy  some  day.  Of 
course  one  should  not  aim  at  doing  good  for  that  reason,  but 
I  really  believe  I  should  be  happier  trying  to  do  good, 
than  amusing  myself  aU  my  life  in  the  usual  routine  we  go 
through.' 

They  were  talking  alone  together,  sitting  on  a  rock  over 
looking  the  river,  one  sunny  afternoon.  There  had  been  a 
picnic-lunch  to  a  ruin  a  mile  or  so  down  the  river,  and  after  the 
entertainment  a  sHght  dispersion  of  the  convives.  Lucy  had 
jfloated  into  the  attraction  of  Merland's  strong  wish  to  draw  her 
off  with  himself,  and  they  had  strolled  a  little  way  along  the 
crest  of  the  hill  on  which  the  old  ruin  stood,  and  had  now  come 
to  rest  in  a  little  patch  of  shade,  with  the  river  below  them  and 
no  listeners  within  earshot. 

"  I  hope  it  will  never  be  more  than  a  joke,"  Merland  an- 
swered, "because  there  may  evidently  be  a  higher  and  nobler 
destiny  before  you  than  the  best  work  that  any  one  person  could 
do  in  that  way.  For  you  to  be  a  sister  of  mercy  would  be  like 
the  commander  of  an  army  setting  to  work  to  dig  in  the 
trenches.  With  such  power  as  you  will  always  have  to  sway 
others  it  would  be  terrible  waste  of  moral  energy  for  you  to 
spend  it  as  merely  so  much  motive  force  behind  your  own  on« 
pail  of  hands." 


▲   FEESH    DEVELOPMENT.  88 

"  And  who  is  going  to  invest  me  with  this  wonderful  power, 

•nd  what  shape  is  it  to  take  1 " 

"  You  are  born  to  wield  it  and  have  it  abeady.  The  wish  to 
please  you  must  he  a  strong  motive  of  action  for  all  you  live 
amongst ;  and,  if  you  are  best  pleased  by  evoking  good  and 
noble  impulses  in  the  people  round  you,  you  are  more  influen- 
tial living  with  people  in  your  own  rank  of  life,  than  if  you 
descend  into  a  lower  level  to  do  humble  works  of  charity  your- 
self. Why  do  you  suppose  you  have  all  the  advantages  of 
station  in  the  world,  as  well  as  those  of  your  own  nature,  which 
show  you  the  beauty  of  the  higher  life,  except  that  you  should 
serve  as  a  guide  and  beacon  for  others  ?  All  your  brilliant 
qualities  would  simply  be  thrown  away  in  the  mere  personal 
service  of  the  poor  and  the  sick.  Any  woman  with  a  kindly 
heart  and  a  gentle  touch  could  do  as  much  for  them  as  you 
could.  But  your  moral  influence  in  the  society  you  properly 
belong  to,  pressing  always  in  the  direction  of  great  ideals  of 
conduct,  might  produce  quite  incalculable  results." 

"  But  in  society  all  thoughts  about  grand  ideas  and  doing 
good  get  swamped  and  overwhelmed  in  the  petty  selfish  affairs 
of  the  hour.  It  is  the  rarest  thing  in  the  world  to  meet  a  man 
for  instance  who  cares  to  talk  about  any  of  the  things  I  have 
been  talking  of  with  you." 

"  And  may  not  that  be  because  there  are  so  few  women  like 
yourself  to  talk  of  them  1  And,  if  so,  is  not  that  the  greater 
reason  why  the  very  few  men  there  are  should  not  take  their 
purifying  influence  away  1  In  the  Indian  poem  that  Edwin 
Arnold  has  translated  do  you  not  remember  how  the  heroine 
extorts  a  miracle  from  Tama  the  god  of  death,  and  gets  back 
the  soul  of  her  husband  by  the  mere  charm  of  her  conversation 
on  great  and  noble  themes.  She  does  not  beg  the  favour,  but 
she  evokes  so  much  enthusiasm  on  Yama's  part,  by  her  eloquent 
"  praise  of  good,"  that  he  yields  her  the  favours  spontaneously. 
What  influence  over  others  in  that  way  could  any  man  ever  have 
compared  with  that  which  a  woman  like  yourself  might  exert  V 

"  Supposing  she  had  the  eloquence,  which  women  as  a  rule 
do  not  have." 

"  But  which  she  might  acquire  if  she  made  that  in  the  first 
instance  her  own  object.  And  then  there  is  magic  merely  in 
the  sympathy  of  some  women,  which  is  an  immense  stimulus  to 
all  who  are  privileged  to  feel  it.     For  myself,  to  begin  with,  I 

G  2 


84  EABMA. 

have  infinite  cause  to  be  grateful  to  you  for  the  inspiration  it 
has  been  to  me  to  talk  out  some  of  these  subjects  with  you 
during  these  few  days.  The  great  advantage  of  knowiog  you 
has  come  to  me  just  at  the  right  moment,  when  the  vague  and 
floating  purpose  of  a  Ufe,  that  had  no  definite  aim  till  recently, 
had  just  been  brought  to  a  focus.  If  your  influence,  which 
could  not  be  but  a  strong  one,  had  worked  against  the  desire 
for  superior  knowledge  and  spiritual  culture  of  the  highest  sort, 
that  has  suddenly  developed  in  my  mind,  I  might  have  been 
driven  back  into  the  lower  channels  of  some  more  commonplace 
career;  but  your  sympathy  and  appreciative  encouragement 
have  exactly  imparted  the  impulse  that  has  converted  my  sudden 
inchnation  into  a  fixed  purpose.  I  might  meet  with  frivolous 
or  worldly-minded  people  now  who  would  scoff  or  sneer,  and 
that  would  disturb  me  about  as  much  as  the  dust  in  the  air 
unsettles  this  hill.  I  see  the  right  path  clearly,  and  I  shall 
never  be  persuaded  that  it  is  the  wrong  one,  when  I  remember 
how  clearly  you  saw  it  too." 

It  was  not  in  Lucy's  feminine  human  nature  to  be  quite 
insensible  to  the  influence  of  this  incense,  burnt  before  her  as  it 
was  with  such  honest  enthusiasm  by  the  good-looking,  earnest 
young  fellow  at  her  side,  with  upturned  face  aglow  with  pure 
reverence  for  her,  and  lighted  up  by  the  sunshine  of  her 
presence.  Lucy  Vaughan's  three  years'  experience  of  the  world, 
gathered,  as  it  had  been,  at  the  focus  of  its  most  vivid  life, 
made  her  older  in  some  respects  than  Merland,  though  the 
young  man  had  the  start  of  her  by  a  certain  space  of  time  as 
regards  mere  physical  existence.  She  was  not  ready  to  catch  at 
admiration,  having  always  found  enough  of  it  and  to  spare 
around  her  on  all  sides.  She  had.  on  the  contrary,  acquired 
the  habit  of  rather  warding  off  the  advances  of  young  men  than 
leading  them  on.  But  Merland's  admiration  was  expressed  with 
such  self-forgetfubaess  that  there  was  nothing  in  it  to  ward  off; 
and  it  was  admiration  moreover,  along  new  lines,  answering  to 
an  inner  chord  in  the  girl's  nature  that  had  vibrated  in  secret, 
so  far,  or  at  all  events  under  repression  ;  as  Mrs.  Vaughan  did 
not  by  any  means  encourage  the  sister-of-mercy  notion  which 
had  hitherto  been  Lucy's  only  defined  aspiration  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  more  exalted  ideals  she  vaguely  yearned  after.  In 
this  way  it  came  to  pass  that  she  permitted  the  incense  now 
offered  up,  to  ascend  unchecked,  and  inhaled  its  fragrance  not 
without  pleasure. 


A   FRESH   DEVflLOPMfiNT.  85 

To  BTich  conversations,  however,  there  can  he  only  one  end. 
Merland  would  never  have  had  the  audacity  to  bring  his  own 
personality  into  their  discussions  if  he  had  fully  realised  at  the 
time  all  that  was  implied  in  making  love  to  Miss  Vaughan. 
Beyond  knowing  that  she  was  a  young  lady  of  very  good  social 
position,  and  that  her  mother  was  spoken  of  by  Mrs.  Miller 
with  great  deference,  he  was  quite  unaware  of  any  special  cir- 
cumstances about  her.  But  in  truth  the  young  lady  was 
unexceptionally  favoured  by  fortune  and  all  its  pleasantest 
concomitants.  Though  her  father  had  borne  no  title,  his  an- 
cestry and  relationships  had  linked  his  family  with  more  than 
one  noble  house.  Her  mother  had  been  an  heiress  in  her  turn, 
and  her  property  had  been  settled  in  the  lemale  line,  which  the 
beautiful  Lucy  alone  represented.  The  family  floated  through 
life,  in  fact,  on  a  wave  of  abundant  prosperity ;  and  scarcely 
any  marriage  Lucy  could  have  made  in  the  highest  London 
society  could  have  been  a  mesalliance  for  the  bridegroom,  what- 
ever his  rank.  Of  all  this,  however,  Merland  was  happily 
unsuspicious.  He  only  knew  that  Miss  Vaughan  had  entered 
into  his  life,  and,  privileged  as  he  had  become  to  gain,  at  least, 
her  sympathetic  friendship,  the  thought  of  a  future  from  which, 
at  the  end  of  a  transitory  autumn  country-house  party,  she 
should  disappear,  was  a  foretaste  of  blank  misery,  even  in  the 
midst  of  the  delight  he  enjoyed  in  her  society  for  the  time. 

The  overwhelming  strength  of  his  new  emotions  kept  him 
silent  about  them  with  the  one  friend  to  whom  he  would  natur- 
ally have  confided  any  fresh  impressions  ;  and  Annerly  was  too 
much  absorbed  himself  by  the  interest  of  the  visions  of  a  dififer- 
ent  kind  presented  to  his  own  imagination,  to  be  very  observant 
of  his  friend.  He  conversed  frequently  and  fully  with  Merland, 
but  their  talk  was  altogether  concentrated  on  the  topics  he  had 
been  engaged  upon  with  the  Baron.  Unconsciously  in  this 
way  he  was  feeding  his  friend's  passion,  for  Merland  was  thus 
supplied  with  floods  of  new  ideas  connected  with  the  loftier 
purposes  of  psychic  development  that  lent  a  daily  augmented 
vigour  to  the  expositions  he  in  hi*  turn  presented  to  Miss 
Vaughan. 

These  expositions  culminated  in  that  inevitable  declaration 
just  referred  to,  at  the  close  of  a  delirious  week.  If  Merland 
had  been  an  older  philosopher  he  would  have  felt  that  the  hal- 
cyon days  he  was  enjoying  weie  too  good  to  last.     But  ho  had 


86  KABMA. 

been  left  undisturbed  to  secure  large  portions  of  Miss  Vaughan's 
society,  day  after  day,  by  reason  of  various  events  that  distracted 
the  attention  of  the  others. 

One  of  these  was  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Lakes  by,  of  whose 
expected  coming  the  Baron  had  spoken  on  the  afternoon  of  bis 
own  appearance  on  the  scene.  There  had  been  some  conversa- 
tion about  her  in  the  drawing-room  the  previous  evening. 

*'  She  has  that  abnormal  sense,"  the  Baron  explained  in 
answer  to  a  question  from  Mrs.  Miller,  "  which  is  generally 
called  clairvoyance.  I  should  say  it  has  rarely  happened  that 
any  one,  not  initiated  in  special  and  artificial  methods  of  de- 
veloping that  sense,  has  been  bom  with  it  in  a  greater  measure.** 

"  Then  the  next  question,"  said  the  Professor,  **  is  how  far 
she  is  likely  to  be  willing  to  demonstrate  the  possession  of  these 
gifts  for  the  service  of  intelligent  inquiry.  I  find  as  a  rule  that 
when  people  are  reputed  to  be  endowed  with  any  sort  of  psychic 
faculty  their  first  impulse  seems  always  to  be  to  hide  the  fact 
from  every  one  to  whom  it  is  specially  worth  while  to  show  it." 

Mrs.  Miller  declared  that  she  always  persevered  with  people 
whom  she  knew  to  have  any  abnormal  faculties  till  she  found 
out  what  they  really  were.  It  was  all  a  question  of  having 
patience. 

Captain  Jem  murmured  in  a  low  voice  to  Blane,  near  whom 
he  was  sitting,  that  he  had  known  the  other  people  lose  their 
little  stock  of  patience  in  the  course  of  the  proceedings; 
but  Mrs.  Miller  caught  the  sense  of  some  comment  having  been 
made  by  the  Captain  on  her  remark,  and  added  that  she  had 
been  specially  trained,  it  was  true,  herself  in  patience  and  long- 
suffering  by  having  been  married  to  Jem.  This  momentary 
clash  of  light  weapons  moved  the  Professor — whose  nervously 
active  temperament  rarely  allowed  him  to  pass  over  anything 
said  in  his  neighbourhood  without  dealing  with  it  in  some  way 
or  other — to  suggest,  that  for  Mrs.  Miller  to  thoroughly  appre- 
ciate Jem  she  ought  to  change  husbands  for  a  time  with  Lady 
Emily.     Then  the  Baron  went  on  about  Mrs.  Lakesby. 

*'  You  see  many  people  who  find  themselves  the  subject  of 
any  strange  experience,  that  ordinary  knowledge  will  not  help 
others  to  account  for,  get  so  much  laughed  at  first  in  the  world 
when  they  mention  it,  that  they  acquire  the  habit  of  reticence 
in  such  matters.  But  Mrs.  Lakesby  will  not  be  timid  in  this 
lespect  with  ua  I  think,  because  she  will  find  a  ready  and  sym- 


A   FEKSH    DBVBLOPMBNT.  87 

pathetic  credit  for  what  she  has  to  tell  us  here  no  doabt ; 
though  my  good  brother-in-law  Sir  John  does  think  us  all 
demented,  I  am  sure,  for  prying  after  the  possibility  of  uncanny 
mysteries  in  the  world." 

jVIrs.  Lakesby  had  come  abroad  with  friends  bound  for 
Switzerland,  and  left  them  when  within  a  few  hours'  easy 
journey  of  Heiligenfels.  She  joined  in  the  castle-party  in  the 
afternoon,  when  a  good  many  of  the  guests  were  assembled  on 
the  terrace  in  honour  of  the  five  o'clock  tea,  which  Mrs.  Miller 
generally  dispensed  there.  She  was  a  little  woman,  bright  and 
attractive  though  no  longer  in  her  first  youth,  a  widow  of  many 
years*  standing,  with  brown  wavy  hair  and  large  blue  eyes,  very 
quiet  and  demure  in  manner  as  a  rule,  with  features  not  regular 
enough  to  be  admired  in  detail,  but  producing  a  pleasant  en- 
semble ;  a  thoroughly  wholesome,  nice  little  woman,  ready  to  like 
and  be  liked  by  the  people  she  might  be  living  with — a  person 
who  could  not  but  excite  interest  and  attention  in  any  group 
she  entered.  She  was  a  stranger  on  her  arrival  to  all  but  the 
Baron.  He  brought  her  on  to  the  terrace,  and  introduced  her 
to  Mrs.  Miller  and  one  or  two  of  the  others,  and  every  one  who 
had  the  opportunity  of  doing  so  without  violating  good  taste  by 
too  obtrusive  a  show  of  interest  did  all  that  could  be  done  to 
make  her  feel  at  once  at  home  and  welcome.  She  noticed  this 
after  a  little  talk  on  the  trifling  topics  of  the  sui-face. 

"  Yes,  the  view  is  lovely ;  and  the  old  castle  has  a  lovely 
feeling  about  it  just  now  because  you  are  all  so  kindly  disposed 
towards  the  new  guest." 

"  The  Baron,"  said  Mrs.  Vaughan,  "  makes  us  all  so  happy 
here,  we  should  be  monsters  indeed  if  we  were  not  in  a  placable 
mood." 

"  It's  more  than  that,  or  at  all  events,  if  the  Baron  has  suc- 
ceeded in  making  you  happy  here,  you  mean  to  make  me  so  too, 
I  can  feel  very  strongly." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  "  you  generally  tell  at  the 
first  moment  whether  people  are  going  to  like  you  or  not  ] " 

"  Pardon  me,"  put  in  the  Professor,  '*  I  am  sure  Mrs.  Lakesby 
has  never  yet  met  anybody  who  did  not  like  her,  so  she  can 
have  no  experience  of  what  that  feeling  is  like." 

"  Well  then,"  answered  Mrs.  Miller,  always  ready  for  a  fence, 
**  she  may  know  when  she  is  not  going  to  like  people  hersell 
You'd  better  be  careful,  Professor." 


88  EABMA. 

"  I  don't  think  Fm  in  much  danger  of  not  liking  people 
here,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby  with  a  reassuring  smile. 

"  But  it  always  interests  me,"  said  the  Professor,  "  to  find 
out  how  far  feelings  of  that  sort  are  derived  from  some  really 
external  cause,  or  are  just  the  inner  impulse  of  the  moment 
depending  on  one's  own  state  of  health  and  spirits.  Of  course, 
you  will  understand  that  I  am  asking  for  information,  and  not 
in  any  distrustful  way — but  do  you  ever  take  pains  to  check 
the  first  impressions  you  get  by  later  observation?" 

"  Oh,  well,  that  is  almost  too  simple  a  feeling  to  want  check- 
ing. One  seems  to  know  the  general  state  of  people's  mind 
about  oneself  as  certainly  as  you  know  their  features  when  you 
look  at  them.  But  1  have  been  checking  those  sort  of  feelings 
by  noticing  them  come  true  all  my  life." 

"'One'  is  an  expression  of  very  variable  meaning,  Mrj. 
Lakesby.  You  may  be  able  to  get  correct  impressions  of  what 
other  people  are  thinking  and  feeKng,  but  most  people  are 
limited  to  observing  how  they  look  and  talk." 

"  Well,  I  know  some  people  are  more  sensitive  than  others 
to  impressions  of  that  sort,  but  it's  all  a  question  of  degree,  very 
likely.  Most  people,  probably,  are  more  sensitive  in  that  way 
than  they  are  aware  of." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  the  Baron. 

"  And  I  will  not  presume  to  disagree  for  a  moment,"  said  thp 
Professor ;  "  but,  whenever  I  am  conscious  of  having  such  im 
pressions  myself,  they  invariably  turn  out  wrong ;  so,  if  it  is  all 
a  question  of  degree,  there  is  a  zero  point  on  the  scale  at  which 
I  am  firmly  established.  But  never  mind  that;  it  is  more 
interesting  to  talk  of  people  who  find  their  impressions  come 
true.  I  shall  hope  to  hear  more  from  you  about  that  some  day 
at  your  leisure." 

"  I  do  not  doubt,"  said  the  Baron,  "  that  Mrs.  Lakesby  will 
be  able  to  convince  you  that  she  can  rely  on  impressions ;  but, 
when  the  faculties  that  have  to  do  with  these  are  very  wide 
awake,  they  get  so  highly  sensitive  about  more  difficult  subjects 
of  perception  that  they  lose  the  habit  of  seeking  proofs  of  their 
own  accuracy.  We  all  leave  off  spelling  our  words  when  we 
have  learned  to  read." 

"  But  with  each  fresh  child  we  must  begin  to  spell  again," 
said  the  Professor.  "  Now  I  am  a  fresh  child,  Mrs.  Lakesby, 
an  unsophisticated,  untaught  creature ;  but  eager  to  learn.     I 


A   PBESH    DEVELOPMENT.  89 

hope  you  will  give  me  some  simple  lessons  in  this  matter,  suited 
to  a  beginner.  Do  the  impressions  you  speak  of,  for  instance, 
convey  merely  a  general  feeling  ?  or  do  they  reveal  any  precise 
intention  in  other  people's  minds  V 

"  In  my  case,  they  do  that  certainly,  at  times.  But  it  is  not 
a  thing  one  likes  to  do — to  read  other  people's  thoughts  too 
much.     I  don't  think  it's  fair." 

"The  faculty  is  so  unusual,"  said  the  Professor,  "that  I 
certainly  never  thought  of  it  as  a  question  of  morals.  But  at 
least,  if  people  willingly  offer  their  minds  for  your  inspection, 
then  it  is  all  right?" 

"  Yes,  it's  aU  right  then." 

The  Professor  remained  silent,  and,  as  he  had  been  carrying 
on  the  talk  for  the  last  few  minutes,  this  made  a  little  pause, 
which  was  bioken  in  a  few  moments  by  a  laugh  from  Mrs. 
Lakesby. 

**  Well,  there's  no  clairvoyance  in  that ;  but  it's  pretty  evi- 
dent that  you  would  like  me  to  try  on  you." 

"  Just  so.     But  that,  you  say,  was  an  ordinary  inference." 

"Of  course.  I  was  not  near  enough  to  you  to  read  you? 
thought,  really." 

"  But  since  it  has  come  under  discussion  I  will  admit  that  it 
was  my  thought ;  though  I  should  deeply  regret  to  be  regarded 
by  you  as  unfortunate.  AVhenever  you  may  be  disposed  for 
Buch  an  experiment  I  shall  be  more  than  ready." 

Mrs.  Lakesby  put  no  difficulties  in  the  way,  and  the  Pro- 
fessor's experiment  was  soon  arranged.  Mrs.  Lakesby  had 
begged  that  it  should  be  one  of  the  ladies  present  whose  thought 
she  should  read ;  and,  Mrs.  Vaughan  having  been  selected,  the 
Professor  went  away  to  write  a  question  on  a  piece  of  paper. 
He  came  back  with  it  folded  up.  Mrs.  Lakesby  pulled  a  chair 
close  to  Mrs.  Vaughan's,  and  put  her  face  down  on  that  lady's 
shoulder,  so  that  their  heads  were  close  together. 

"  One  must  be  so  very  affectionate  for  this  purpose,"  she  said, 
"  that  it's  nicer  to  read  ladies'  thoughts  than  gentlemen's." 

"  I  don't  think  it  would  be  disagreeable — at  all  events,"  said 
the  Professor,  "for  the  gentlemen." 

"What  a  beautiful  park  !  "  said  Mrs.  Lakesby,  nestling  closer 
to  Mrs.  Vaughan. 

"  Whyy  what  do  you  mean  t    We  haven't  begun." 

"  No,  I  know  you  haven't  given  Mrs.  Vaughan  your  question, 


90  EABMA. 

but  I  caught  sight  of  such  a  lovely  house,  fn  her  mind,  a  house 
with  curved  steps  leading  up  to  a  stained-glass  door,  and  a  lawn 
in  front  with  a  lake  beyond,  and  such  a  pretty  boat-house  to 
the  left  there,  with  three  or  four  boats  at  anchor  on  the  water, 
and  big  trees  on  the  right.  And  there*s  a  lot  of  scaffolding  up 
against  the  house  at  one  end  and  building  going  on.  Oh,  I  see 
there's  been  a  fire.     Why,  some  of  the  walls  are  all  black." 

"Why,  she's  describing  my  house  in  Devonshire  exactly," 
said  Mrs.  Vaughan. 

"  But  never  mind  that,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby ;  "  I'm  quite 
ready  for  your  question.  Professor  Massilton." 

"  But  this  is  most  interesting.  Do  you  see  any  further  detail 
about  the  house  in  Devonshire  1 " 

"  Why,  if  I  went  on  looking  I  could  tell  you  details  till  to- 
morrow, of  course." 

"  Well,  tell  me,"  said  Mrs.  Vaughan,  "  something  about  my 
own  particular  room  in  which  I  generally  sit  in  the  morning." 

"  Wait  a  moment — where  is  it  ?— oh,  yes,  now  I  see.  A 
bow-window  with  a  writing-table  in  it  What  a  pretty  table — 
all  inlaid-work  and  ivory.  And  there  are  book-shelves  there, 
to  the  left,  and  another  window  opposite  them.  There  are 
quantities  of  ornaments  and  things  about,  and  pictures,  and 
easy-chairs.     I  don't  wonder  you  live  a  good  deal  in  that  room." 

"  Is  that  right,  Mrs.  Vaughan  1 "  asked  the  Professor. 

"  Wonderfully,  marvellously  right — except,  indeed,  for  one 
thing  you  said,  which  is  only  worth  noticing  as  wrong  because 
of  the  extraordinary  accuracy  of  your  description  generally. 
As  you  stand  at  the  writing-table  in  the  bow-window,  looking 
out,  the  bookshelves  would  be  to  your  right  and  the  window  to 
the  left" 

**  Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby;  "  I  did  not  stop  to 
reverse  things  for  you.  In  clairvoyant-sight  one  generally  sees 
things  in  that  way,  the  wrong  way  about  as  in  a  looking-glass, 
I  dare  say  I  got  a  wrong  impression  of  the  lawn,  just  now,  in 
that  way." 

"  Yes,  I  noticed  that  you  said  the  boat-house  was  to  the  left 
instead  of  to  the  right  as  you  look  from  the  terrace." 

"  It  is  a  point,"  the  Professor  said,  "  that  one  would  like  to 
go  into  later ;  but  the  mere  fact  that  distant  places  can  be  seen 
this  way  at  all  is  so  immense  a  fact  that  we  must  try  to  get  at 
its  elementary  explanations  first  before  going  into  minuti»." 


A  FBESH   DEVELOPMBNT.  91 

"  But  what  question  do  you  want  to  ask  t  **  said  Mrs.  Lakesby ; 
**  because  it  is  just  possible  that  Mrs.  Vaughan  may  get  tired  of 
nursing  me  in  this  way  after  a  time." 

Mrs.  Vaughan  gave  light  and  graceful  assurances  to  the  con- 
trary, but  tlien  the  Professor,  carrying  out  the  arrangement  that 
had  previously  been  agreed  upon,  unfolded  the  paper  he  had 
written,  and  handed  it  to  her,  Mrs.  Lakesby's  back  being 
towards  him,  and  her  face  buried  in  the  light  shawl  on  Mrs. 
Vaughan's  shoulder.  Mrs.  Vaughan  silently  read  the  paper  and 
remained  looking  at  it.  Almost  as  quickly  as  if  it  had  been 
before  her  own  eyes,  Mrs.  Lakesby  became  aware  of  its  sub- 
stance, and  gaily  replied, — 

"I  should  rather  think  so.  'Is  clairvoyance  possible!* 
The  strange  thing  for  people  who  have  the  double  sight  is  that 
other  people  can  sometimes  fail  to  see  the  things  so  seen."  She 
lifted  her  head  when  she  had  thus  given  the  contents  of  the 
paper,  and  laughed  again  as  the  others  pressed  round  to  look  at 
the  paper,  and  asked,  "  Is  that  right  ? " 

"  It  seems  so  funny  that  so  simple  a  thing  should  be  a  won- 
der," she  explained, 

"A  simple  thing,"  said  Blane,  "for  the  few  who  enjoy  your 
gifts  perhaps  ;  but  so  boundlessly  astonishing  a  thing  in  itself, 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  enormous  majority  without  them, 
that  they  will  not  even  be  persuaded  the  world  holds  anything 
80  wonderful" 

*'  I  wish  Lucy  had  been  here  to  see  that,"  Mrs.  Vaughan  said 
to  Mr&  Miller.  "  She  would  have  been  so  profoundly  inter- 
ested.    Where  is  she  ? " 

"  I  haven't  seen  her  since  lunch.  Most  of  our  young  people 
are  wandering  about  the  woods,  I  think." 

"  Ah  well !  but  after  all,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby,  "  I  did  not 
expect  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  prodigy  here  !  " 

*'  But  why,"  said  the  Professor,  **  should  you  have  supposed 
us  likely  to  be  so  exceptionally  stupid  as  not  to  be  struck  by 
such  faculties  as  yours,  which  you  must  know  to  be  very  rare  ? " 

"  I  mean — "  with  an  arch,  inquiring  look  at  the  Baron,  "  that 
you  might  perhaps  have  been  interested  in  other  things  before 
now,  rather  than  in  my  little  faculties." 

The  Baron  quietly  smiled,  and  shook  his  head.  "  There  can- 
not be  any  subjects,"  he  said,  "which would  eclipse  the  interest 
of  your  clairvoyance  for  the  Professor,  I  am  sure,  Mrs.  Lakesby," 


92  KABMA, 

"  At  all  events,"  the  Professor  put  in,  **  it  will  be  a  privilege 
that  I  appreciate  more  than  I  can  say  if  you  will  let  me  study 
the  subject  of  your  clairvoyance.  Are  there  any  difficulties  in 
the  way  of  repeating  such  experiments  as  that  we  have  just 
had?" 

"I  could  generally  read  a  simple  question  like  that  you 
wrote,  in  so  clear  a  mind  as  Mrs.  Vaughan's.  But  I  would  not 
always  see  other  places  as  plainly  as  I  saw  her  house.  My 
sight  is  very  good  to-day.  And  Mrs.  Vaughan  read  that  paper 
so  strongly,  if  you  know  what  I  mean.  The  words  marched 
quite  vividly,  as  it  were,  through  her  mind.  It  would  not  fol- 
low that  everybody  would  take  them  so  plainly,  but  most  people 
might,  with  so  short  a  question  as  that.  However,  that  sort  of 
physical  clairvoyance,  like  seeing  the  house,  and  so  on,  can't  be 
relied  on.  I  get  very  bright  flashes  of  it  now  and  then,  but  I 
do  not  care  about  that  so  much." 

The  Professor  looked  as  if  he  were  going  to  remonstrate,  but 
Blane  put  in  a  word. 

"This  is  profoundly  interesting,  Mrs.  Lakesby.  Would  you 
explain  that  more  fully?  What  sort  of  clairvoyance  do  you 
mean  that  you  do  care  about  ? " 

"  I  like  best  to  see  my  friends,"  she  answered,  with  some 
shade  of  hesitation.  "  I  do  not  quite  know  how  far  you  are 
prepared  for  what  I  mean,  but  I  think  I  have  friends  you  know 
who  have  passed  from  this  to  another  sort  of  life." 

"  I  understand,"  Blane  replied,  "  and  I  am  not  unprepared. 
But  I  can  understand,  also,  that  the  subject  may  be  one  you  do 
not  like  to  talk  of  too  freely." 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  here  by  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
Annerly.  The  Baron  spoke  to  him  the  moment  he  appeared  on 
the  terrace. 

"  Let  me  present  you,"  he  said,  "  to  Mrs.  Lakesby." 

Mrs.  Lakesby  gazed  at  him  intently  as  she  shook  hands,  and 
then  turned  her  large,  open  eyes,  with  an  inquiring  look,  at  the 
Baron.  But  he  did  not  take  any  notice  of  the  look,  and  the 
general  talk  went  on  for  a  while.  Then,  eventually,  Mrs. 
Miller  went  off  with  Mrs.  Lakesby  to  show  her  her  room,  and 
the  party  scattered.  The  Professor  announced  his  intention  of 
going  to  write  letters  between  then  and  dinner,  but  put  his  arm 
through  Blane's  and  walked  up  and  down  the  terrace,  talking 
for  a  little  while  longer 


A   FRESH    DEVELOPMENT.  98 

•*  Now,  old  fellow,  how  does  what  we  have  just  seen  strike 
jout" 

"  Certainly  as  more  than  the  finest  feat  of  clairvoyance  I  ever 
saw — almost  finer  than  any  I  have  heard  of." 

"  The  sort  of  thing,  in  fact,  one  reads  about  but  does  not  often 
see.  Quite  so ;  but  what  has  suddenly  struck  me  forcibly  is, 
that  we  have  got  no  case  for  argument  with  outsiders  about  it." 
"  It  is  only  one  experiment,  certainly,  but  as  far  as  it  went 
that  arrangement  of  yours  with  the  paper  was  most  definite  and 
distinct." 

"  It  was.  And  we  who  saw  it  carried  out  know  with 
practical  certainty  that  the  question  was  read  by  ]\Irs.  Lakesby 
with  a  hondjide  exercise  of  the  abnormal  gift  she  possesses. 
But,  thinking  what  could  be  suggested  by  the  incredulous  out- 
sider, who  would  merely  read  about  the  incident,  supposing  we 
were  to  tell  the  story,  I  saw  at  once  what  would  be  said  ?  Mrs. 
Lakesby's  ear  was  less  than  a  foot  away  from  Mrs.  Vaughan's 
lips  when  she  looked  at  the  paper.  People  would  say,  of 
course,  that  she  read  the  question  articulately,  though  not  aloud ; 
and  that  Mrs.  Lakesby,  with  a  fine  sense  of  hearing,  was  enabled 
to  catch  the  words.  Or  they  would  say  Mrs.  Vaughan  played 
into  her  hands  for  the  fun  of  the  thing,  and  to  take  a  rise  out  of 
you  and  me.'* 

"The  criticism  would  be  absurd,  really,  because  we  were 
close  by  and  saw  that  this  was  not  done." 

"The  criticism  would  involve  conjectures  which  we  know 
would  be  idiotic.  And  it  would  rest  on  the  silly  assumption 
that  we  were  too  silly  to  be  trusted  as  witnesses.  But,  when 
you  come  to  think  of  it,  that  assumption,  silly  as  it  is,  is  the 
whole  bulwark  of  defence  within  which  the  incredulous  majority 
entrenches  itself.  Scores  and  hundreds  of  highly  intelligent 
and  highly  competent  observers  have  written,  I  suppose,  scores 
of  hundreds  of  books  and  statements  of  various  kinds  recording 
their  observations  about  psychic  phenomena  of  all  sorts.  And 
yet  there  still  is  an  incredulous  majority  of  people  who  can 
afibrd  to  go  about  saying  they  do  not  believe  a  word  so  said.  It 
is  very  odd,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  that  this  is  possible ; 
it  is  such  a  stupid  position  for  otherwise  intelligent  people 
to  take  up,  but  to  the  present  time  the  majority  support  one 
another  in  incredulity,  which  is  a  plain  defiance  of  evidence  and 
facta^   and  there  you   are.     We  may  give  them  some   mors 


94  KABMA. 

evidence  and  facts,  and  they  will  not  be  moved  an  inch  from 
their  comical  pride  in  their  own  ridiculous  position.  They  will 
not  believe  us,  or,  if  they  do  not  think  we  are  lying,  they  will 
think  we  are  probably  gabies  who  can't  see  whether  we  are  or 
are  not  imposed  upon." 

"  Well,  with  the  opportunities  we  have  now,  it  seems  to  me," 
Blane  answered,  "that  we  ought  to  be  able  to  arrange  ex- 
periments that  shall  make  that  charge,  at  all  events,  self- 
evidently  absurd.  It  is  our  business,  since  we  are  more  than 
likely  to  be  questioned  closely  hereafter  about  all  that  is  taking 
place  now,  to  foresee  the  questions  which  may  be  asked,  and 
provide  against  them  beforehand" 

"  There  are  great  difficulties  in  our  way,"  said  the  Professor, 
thoughtfully,  "  if  we  aim  at  really  producing  an  effect  on  current 
thought.  We  may  very  easily  succeed  in  nothing  but  in  getting 
laughed  at  for  our  pains." 

"  We  have  opportunities,  at  all  events,  that  are  on  a  level 
with  our  difficulties,'*  Blane  urged  in  reply  ;  "and  for  my  part, 
for  the  sake  of  the  knowledge  we  seem  in  a  fair  way  of  gaining, 
I  would  be  content  to  be  laughed  at  by  the  world  at  large. 
Indeed,  that  seems  quite  too  trivial  a  penalty  to  be  talked  of, 
as  set  against  the  knowledge  we  are  likely  to  acquire." 

"  We  are  likely  to  acquire  knowledge  that  certain  very  grand 
knowledge  exists  in  other  people's  keeping.  I  am  not  yet 
inclined  to  believe  that  we  shall  gain  much  beyond  that  know- 
ledge concerning  knowledge." 

"  It  is  a  step  to  have  so  much,"  Blane  said,  as  the  Professor 
loosed  his  arm  and  prepared  to  go  indoors  ;  "  a  step  leagues  in 
advance  of  the  state  of  mind  which  preceded  it." 


CHAPTER  Xm. 


OONTBASTSD  VISIONS. 


Miss  Vadqhan  threw  herself  with  ardour  into  the  new  avenues 
of  inquiry  which  Mrs.  Lakesby's  acquaintance  opened  out  befor* 


CONTRASTED    VISIONS.  96 

hei.  She  learned  that  evening  at  dinner  \vhat  had  passed  in 
the  afternoon ;  and  could  do  nothing,  either  at  table  or  after- 
wards in  the  drawing-room,  but  watch  the  clairvoyante,  who, 
for  that  matter,  betrayed  no  ecct  ntricities  of  any  kind  in  her 
conversation  or  manner,  was  bright  and  talkative  about  all 
current  topics,  endowed  with  a  quick  sense  of  humour,  and  able 
to  put  things  in  a  pleasant  way  herself. 

"  But  you  must  let  me  say  one  thing,"  Miss  Vauglian  declared, 
having  seized  on  a  place  beside  Mrs.  Lakesby  on  a  sofa,  when 
the  ladies  had  left  the  dining-hall.  "  It  does  seem  so  wonder- 
ful to  think  of  what  you  are,  and  hear  you  talking  away  of  com- 
monplace things  like  anybody  else." 

"  I  should  have  a  dull  life  of  it  if  I  couldn't  laugh  and  talk 
like  other  people.  I  don't  enjoy  life  the  less  for  seeing  more 
about  me  than  other  people  see  as  a  rule.  What  do  you  think 
I  like  to  be  doing,  best  of  anything  in  the  world  1" 

"  Using  your  wonderful  gifts,  of  course." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it — dancing." 

"  What  an  idea  I  Why,  who  is  there  worthy  to  dance  with 
you?" 

"  Worthy  !  Well,  I  own  I'm  particular  about  my  partners, 
because  it's  such  agony  to  be  dragged  round  the  room  as  if  it  was 
a  ploughed  field.  But  you  may  depend  on  it  I  don't  talk  about 
clairvoyance  with  my  partners.  More  than  half  the  people  I 
know  have  no  notion  at  all  that  there's  anything  queer  about 
me.  And  then  what  I  like  next  best  to  dancing  is —what  do 
you  think  1 " 

"  I'm  sure  you're  going  to  say  something  commonplace  that 
anybody  can  do." 

"  Everybody  can't  do  this  particular  thing  nearly  as  well  as  I 
can,  I  mean  swimming.  I  am  passionately  fond  of  swimming, 
and  I  looked  at  that  lovely,  clear  gieen  river  down  there  to-day 
with  a  positive  longing  to  plunge  into  it." 

"  Swimming  !  If  you  had  told  me,  now,  you  liked  flying,  I 
should  not  have  been  a  bit  surprised,  and  should  merely  have 
begged  you  to  let  me  see  you  on  the  wing." 

"  One  doesn't  want  wings  for  the  only  sort  of  flying  that 
I  know  anything  about" 

"What  sort  is  that?" 

"  Well,  you  know,  some  people  who  write  aboat  clairYoyanti 
call  them  *  flying  souls.' " 


96 


SABMA. 


*And   is  that  right  t    Do   they   really  fly  aboul   In  Ui«i» 

souls — whatever  that  may  he  like  ? " 

"I  suppose  they  do,  sometimes.  But  you  should  ask  th«>^ 
Baron  about  what  it  is  they  really  do.  He  knows  a  great  deal 
more  about  it  than  I  do.'* 

"I  will;  but  just  now  I  have  got  you  to  ask — and  I  am 
sure  you  can  tell  me  more  than  I  shall  be  able  to  take  in  : 
Do  you  fly  about  in  your  soul  ? " 

**  Most  certainly  I  get  about  the  world  out  of  the  body  some- 
times ;  but  I  can't  exactly  tell  you  how  I  do  it ;  and  it  isn't 
flying  in  the  literal  sense  of  the  word.  But  when  I  want  to. 
and  can  lie  down  somewhere  safe  and  comfortable  by  myself, 
I  can  ooze  out  somehow,  by  making  a  kind  of  an  effort  I  can 
hardly  describe,  and  then,  once  in  the  astral  form,  one  can  go 
anywhere  by  merely  willing  to." 

"  Good  heavens !     But  how  do  you  get  back  again  t " 

"It  is  not  always  pleasant,  the  getting  back.  Sometimes 
when  I  am  out  I  think  I  will  not  go  back  at  alL  It  is  much 
pleasanter  to  be  free  and  light,  and  enjoying  yourself.  But 
one  always  does  come  back ;  they  always  tell  you  to,  and  then 
you  must," 

"Who  tell  you  tot" 

"Well,  the  friends  you  go  to  see  in  the  spirit- world — or 
the  other  people  you  meet  there." 

"  It's  the  most  delightfully  bewildering  thing  I  ever  heard 

"  Don't  you  think  I  must  be  crazy  ? " 

"  I  never  talked  to  anybody  who  seemed  less  80,  though  you 
talk  of  such  wonderful  things." 

"  I  rattle  on  this  way  with  you  because,  if  you  are  a  friend 
of  Baron  von  Mondstern's,  and  asked  here  to  his  house,  it  is 
to  be  presumed  you  will  understand  me." 

"  I  am  reverentially  interested  in  all  this  sort  of  thing,  but 
frightfully  ignorant.  I  don't  even  know  why  you  speak  of  the 
Baron  like  that,  though  I  am  prepared  to  believe  anything 
about  him  that's  magnificent  and  thrilling.  I  don't  know  why, 
but  I  feel  almost  too  much  in  awe  of  him  to  cross-question 
him  about  himself.     Can  you  explain  him  to  me  1 " 

"I  can't  explain  him  to  myself,  but  I  know  he's  a  great 
occultist ;  and  I'm  quite  sure  anything  I  can  do  he  can  do  too, 
and  a  great  deal  more  besides." 


OONTEASTED    VISIONS.  97 

•*  Can  he  go  about  out  of  his  body  then,  too  t " 

"  "WTiy,  of  course  he  can.  I  knew  him  out  of  hie  body  long 
before  I  ever  knew  him  in  it." 

*'  What  ?  Do  you  mean  that  you  met  him  first  flying  about 
in  the  air  like  yourself  1 " 

"  Well,  on  the  astral  plane  at  all  events — you  don't  think 
much  about  the  air  when  you  are  out  of  the  body.  It's  another 
etate  of  existence  you  pass  into.  But  I  can  see  people  on  the 
astral  plane  without  being  out  of  the  body  at  all,  for  that  matter 
myself." 

"I  want  to  ask  a  himdred  questions  at  once-  but  could 
ordinary  people  be  taught  to  get  out  of  their  bodies  ?  Could 
I?" 

"Ask  the  Baron.  I  only  know  what  I  can  do  myself.  I 
can't  teach  anybody  anything." 

It  chanced  that  while  they  were  talking  the  gentlemen,  or 
most  of  them,  with  the  Baron  among  the  number,  came  into 
the  drawing-room.  With  the  impulsiveness  of  her  nature,  and 
her  face  glowing  more  than  usual  with  the  sudden  excitement  of 
her  idea,  Miss  Vaughan  sprang  up,  and,  with  hands  clasped  in 
eagerness,  took  Mrs.  Lakesby'e  suggestion  au  pied  de  la  lettre. 

"  Oh,  Baron  von  Mondstern,  will  you  teach  me  to  get  out  of 
my  body  ? " 

Mrs.  Vaughan  looked  up  amazed. 

"  My  dear  Lucy,  what  on  earth  do  you  mean  1 " 

The  Professor,  of  course,  seized  the  opportunity  for  a  compli- 
ment. 

"  Why  should  you  be  discontented.  Miss  Vaughan,  of  all 
people  in  creation,  mth  the  one  you  have  got  ? " 

"  I'm  utterly  serious,  I  assure  you,"  the  young  lady  pleaded. 
"  Mrs.  Lakesby  can  get  out  of  her  body  and  go  anywhere  she 
likes.     Why  cannot  1 1  " 

"  Perhaps,  Miss  Vaughan,"  said  the  Baron  with  his  usual 
kindly  smile,  "  you  sometimes  do  without  being  aware  of  it. 
But  happily  for  your  friends  you  always  wake  in  the  morning 
safely  established  in  your  usual  conditions  again." 

"  Don't  put  me  off  in  that  way.  Will  you  teach  me  t  I'm 
Bure  you  can." 

"  Let  us  sit  down  and  talk,"  said  the  Baron.  "  You  have 
heard  something,  I  gather,  from  Mrs.  Lakesby.  Will  you  tell 
us  what  that  ia,  to  begin  with ) " 


98  EABMA. 

This  led  to  a  long  and  general  conversation  in  which  all  thai 
'Mis.  Lakesby  had  said  to  Miss  Vaughan  was  repeated,  and 
made  the  subject  of  much  searching  inquiry  from  many  of  the 
others.  Miss  Vaughan  clung  to  her  point,  however,  and  it  was 
with  almost  pathetic  eagerness  that  she  appealed  to  the  Baron 
again  to  know  if  she  could  acquire  the  experience  of  which 
Mrs.  Lakesby  spoke. 

"  Practically  you  cannot,  Miss  Vaughan,"  the  Baron  said, 
"  any  more  than  you  can  acquire  the  clairvoyant  faculty  Mrs. 
Lakesby  possesses,  of  which  you  saw  an  illustration  this  after- 
noon. Theoretically,  every  human  being  can  acquire  the  art 
of  getting  out  of  the  body,  eventually,  but  the  training  for 
those  not  bom  with  peculiar  natural  gifts  is  long  and  trying, 
— so  much  80,  that,  believe  me,  you  must  put  the  idea  aside, — 
just  as  it  would  be  wise  for  a  person  without  any  musical 
gifts  to  put  aside  an  unreasonable  ambition  to  sing  like  Miss 
Blane  here,  or  play  like  Mr.  Annerly.  But  we  can  all  come  to 
understand  a  little  more  than  most  of  us  know  at  present 
about  what  is  possible  for  some  human  beings,  and  indeed 
for  a  very  considerable  number  qualified  to  go  through  the 
ordeals  that  bar  the  way.  If  we  understand  that  rightly  we 
shall  be  much  the  better — in  more  ways  than  one." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Miss  Vaughan,  "  what  you  say  is  right  and 
wise.  You  know  all  about  it  and  I  know  nothing  ;  but  tell 
us,  will  you  not,  more  fully  what  you  mean  by  the  ordeals  that 
bar  the  way.' 

"  You  believe  me  when  I  hint  that  they  are  impassable ; 
still  you  want  to  see  if  you  think  you  could  pass  them  ?  Well, 
I  will  try  to  show  you  some.  These  faculties  of  the  spirit,  if 
I  may  use  language  just  to  explain  what  I  mean  for  the 
moment,  though  perhaps  I  should  use  other  words  if  you  had 
studied  these  things  more — these  faculties  of  the  spirit  can 
only  be  trained  artificially  by  the  repression  of  all  the  faculties 
which  are  concerned  with  the  material  life  and  material  enjoy- 
ment That  is  the  true  meaning  of  the  ascetic  life,  which  has 
often  been  practised  blindly,  and  consequently  without  important 
results — and  still  more  often  criticized  blindly.  There  may  be  no 
absolute  merit  in  denying  yourself  everything  which  makes  life 
pleasant,  but  when  most  of  us  talk  of  life,  we  mean  the  life  of 
the  body.  If  you  want  to  develop  the  life  of  the  spirit  you 
queneh  all  the  life  of  the  body,  which  can  be  quenched  without 


00NTEA8TED   VISIONS.  99 

interfering  too  much  with  its  mere  physical  vitality.  If  you 
quenched  tliat  too  you  would  die,  and  your  etfort  would  fail 
that  way ;  but  instead  of  living  to  enjoy  the  pleasantness  of 
life,  in  which  case  your  true  inner  vitality  is  absorbed  by  the 
body,  you  must  live  for  the  development  of  the  spirit  alone. 
We  need  not  talk  now  of  all  that  that  means ;  but  you  will 
see  that  to  care  not  at  all  for  the  pleasures  of  ordinary  life,  to 
banish  them  out  of  your  scheme  of  existence  altogether,  and 
to  learn  so  to  banish  them  quite  without  regret,  is  the  first 
thing  you  have  to  do — the  first  step  in  the  direction  of  acquiring 
the  faculties  of  the  spirit,  if  you  have  not  got  them  by  Nature." 

"  I  care  nothing  for  the  things  of  this  world  !  "  cried  Miss 
Vaughan,  impetuously,  with  an  animated  gesture  of  both  hands, 
that,  by  a  comical  contrast  with  her  words,  threw  sparkles  of 
light  about  from  the  rings  on  her  fingers,  and  waved  a  perfume 
of  scent  on  the  air  from  the  handkerchief  she  held. 

"  I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby ;  "  it  seems  a  very  nice  world, 
I  think,  while  one  is  in  it." 

"  While  one  is  in  it,"  said  the  Professor,  repeating  the 
phrase ;  "  what  a  lordly  superiority  that  remark  shows  to  us 
poor  mortals  who  only  know  one  sort  of  world." 

"  I'd  give  up  the  world  to-morrow,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  "  if  I 
were  sure  of  getting  something  better.  But  I'm  not  so  sure 
that  it's  worth  while  to  give  up  everything  that's  pleasant 
merely  to  be  able  to  float  about  in  space  without  a  body." 

The  Professor  put  in  a  word  again. 

"Then  we  are  not  to  understand  that  you  yourself  are  obliged 
to  make  any  choice  in  the  matter  1  You  are  so  privileged  a 
creature  that  you  have  the  blessings  of  both  states." 

"  I  only  know,"  she  answered,  "that  the  things  we  are  talk- 
ing about  are  natural  to  me.  I  certainly  never  went  through 
any  training  to  get  such  powers  as  I  possess." 

"  I  daresay,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  "  that  it's  all  right,  really, 
but  it  doesn't  seem  fair  on  the  surface.'' 

"  It  would  seem  fair,  perhaps,"  suggested  the  Baron,  "  if 
we  could  look  back  on  the  whole  process  Mrs.  Lakesby  has 
gone  through.  We  are  in  the  midst  of  mysteries  that  can  only 
be  explained  by  other  mysteries.  If  we  none  of  us  led  more 
than  one  physical  life  the  apparent  injustice  of  all  differences  of 
well-being  would  be  real  injustice.  But  the  clue  to  the  fair- 
ness of  Nature,  which  I  take  to  be  quite  perfect,  really,  is  tha< 

H  2 


100  KABMA. 

we  lead  more  than  one  life ;  and,  though  we  do  not  carry  re- 
collection from  one  to  the  other,  we  carry  the  accumulated 
results  of  our  efforts  and  acts,  whatever  they  may  he,  from  one 
to  the  other.  You  may  depend  upon  it  that,  if  Mrs.  Lakesby 
is  now  enjoying  psychic  faculties  far  in  advance  of  those  which 
are  commonly  found  among  the  people  of  her  generation,  she 
has  worked  for  them  in  a  former  state  of  existence." 

"Then  we  common  people,"  said  the  Professor,  "have  been 
the  idle  hoys  of  former  generations." 

'*  Or  perhaps,"  said  the  Baron,  "  we  may  not  all  have  been 
to  good  schools." 

"  That  idea,"  Blane  put  in,  "  suggests  a  very  practical  in- 
ference. If  we  make  efforts  to  attain  a  high  degree  of  spiritual 
development  in  this  life,  they  will  not  be  thrown  away  alto- 
gether, even  if  they  are  not  at  once  crowned  with  success. 
They  will  tell  on  our  next  incarnation.** 

"  Exactly,"  replied  Baron  Friedrich.  **  That  appears  to  me 
to  be  one  of  the  finest  and  most  important  lessons  of  psychic 
science.  "No  effort  is  thrown  away — no  act  in  this  life  is  with- 
out its  infinite  consequences ;  just  as  no  force  can  be  exerted 
in  the  material  world  which  is  not  subject,  in  some  way  or 
other,  to  the  great  law  of  conservation.  A  full  appreciation  of 
this  truth  in  all  its  bearings  constitutes  a  recognition  of  the 
supremely  important  principle  recognized  in  some  Oriental 
philosophers  as  Karma.  The  law  of  Karma  is  the  law  of  the 
conservation  of  energy  on  the  moral  and  spiritual  planes  of 
nature." 

It  was  by  a  mutual  impulse,  the  following  day,  that  Merland 
and  Miss  Vaughan  took  advantage  of  the  easy  freedom  of  the 
castle-life  to  compare  their  impressions  of  the  previous  even- 
ing. Their  constant  intercourse  during  the  week  had  associated 
Merland  more  and  more  in  Miss  Vaughan's  imagination  with 
that  vivid  enthusiasm  for  psychic  mysteries  that  the  general 
influence  of  Heiligenfels  had  developed.  From  the  height  of 
her  present  aspirations  she  looked  dovm  on  the  commonplace 
interests  of  life  as  on  a  lower  existence.  She  had  not  stopped 
to  consider  how  far  the  upper  level,  on  which  her  emotions 
now  moved,  was  attractive  by  reason  of  its  congenial  com- 
panionship. 

"  They  talk  about  giving  up  the  pleasures  of  the  world  as  of 
a  great  sacrifice,"  she  said  to  Merland,  after  a  long  talk  oyer 


OONTitASTED    VISIONS.  101 

the  explanations  that  had  been  given  of  Mrs.  Lakesby's  ab- 
normal privileges.  "  They  would  be  as  nothing  to  me  com- 
pared to  the  splendid  feeling  of  gaining  powers  of  insight 
into  the  spiritual  world.  Wouldn't  you  give  up  anything  for 
that  ? " 

"  I  have  quite  made  up  my  mind,"  Merland  answered,  "  as 
you  know,  to  put  all  ordinary  worldly  pursuits  aside  for  the 
sake  of  following  up  this  grand  idea  to  the  end.  And  if  any- 
thing could  have  confirmed  me  more  than  ever  in  that  view 
of  things  it  would  be  the  obviously  reasonable  explanation  the 
Baron  gave  last  night,  about  the  way  all  effort  must  produce  its 
effect — if  not  in  this  life  then  in  the  next." 

They  had  found  seclusion  in  the  conservatory  built  outside 
the  outer  courtyard,  in  which  Miss  Vaughan,  on  her  first 
arrival,  had  found  young  Reginald  Hexton  reading  Sanscrit. 
They  were  leaning  on  the  sill  of  an  open  window  looking  over 
the  river. 

"It's  quite  symbolical,  so  to  speak,"  said  Miss  Vaughan, 
"  that  our  eyes  should  have  been  opened  to  the  insignificance  of 
ordinary  life  and  its  ambitions  up  in  this  lofty  eyrie,  looking 
down  on  the  common  world  below.  How  far  beneath  us  that 
village  there  on  the  river's  bank  seems  to  be.  There  are  people 
there  planning  about  their  amusements  and  their  business,  and 
struggling  with  one  another  for  petty  objects,  that  only  give 
pleasure  for  a  few  years.  And,  as  we  look  down  on  them  from 
this  height,  so  do  I  look  down  on  the  kind  of  life  from  which 
I  emerged  when  we  came  abroad  and  up  here." 

"  Do  you  think  you  will  continue  to  feel  about  it  as  you  do 
now  when  you  go  back  into  the  life  you  have  left  1 " 

"  I  would  rather  not  go  back  into  it  at  all,  but  I  am  quite 
sure  that  I  shall  never  be  of  it  again,  even  if  I  am  in  it.  _  The 
Baron  cannot  believe  that  a  young  lady  he  has  known  in  the 
midst  of  a  London  season,  steeped  to  the  lips  in  frivolities  of 
all  sorts,  can  renounce  that  for  the  sake  of  spiritual  develop- 
ment ;  but  he  shall  see  that  it  is  possible." 

It  was  no  sudden  inspiration  or  unfamiliar  thought  that  set 
Merland's  heart  thumping,  as  he  thought  almost  audibly,  when 
the  bearing  of  this  declaration  of  hers  on  his  own  irresistible 
desire  flat^hed  upon  him.  More  than  once  before  he  had  been 
on  the  point  of  telling  her  that  his  enthusiasm  for  the  idea 
they  80  constantly  discussed  was  blended  now  inextricably  with 


102  EABMA. 

her  own ;  and  that  the  higher  life  itself  would  be  desolate  of 
beauty  unless  it  could  be  shared  with  her.  But  the  sweet 
present  had  always  been  too  delicious  to  be  imperilled  by  the 
sudden  assertion  of  a  claim  that  it  should  last  for  always. 
Prudence  at  last  gave  way.  She  was  too  lovely  in  her  enthu- 
siasm, which  lighted  up  and  glorified  a  face  that  was  beautiful 
even  in  repose,  for  a  lover  to  be  silent  longer ;  and  as  she  stood 
erect,  with  one  uplifted  hand  resting  on  the  edge  of  the  open 
window-sash  above  her  head,  and  the  other — the  one  nearest  to 
Merland,  as  he  stood  beside  her — stretched  out  as  she  pointed 
to  the  village  below,  she  was  too  splendid  a  creature  to  be 
talked  to  in  measured  tones  any  more. 

"  Miss  Vaughan,— " 

The  deep  changed  tone  of  his  voice  as  he  pronounced  her 
name  gave,  as  it  were,  an  electric  shock  to  their  relationship. 
The  time  of  self-restraint  was  over  for  Merland — for  her  there 
was  a  sudden  rush  of  bewilderment.  The  situation  had  not 
struck  her  before  in  that  light.  It  was  the  unconscious  opera- 
tion of  her  worldly  experience  that  had  blinded  her  to  the 
possibility  that  Merland  would  turn  into  a  lover  with  definite 
proposals  to  put  before  her.  There  were  other  candidates  in 
the  field  she  knew,  but  they  were  in  the  world  of  fashion — left 
behind  during  this  Continental  holiday.  One  she  knew  to  be 
her  mother's  pet  candidate — none  were  especially  glorified  in 
her  own  fancy.  This  business  of  being  made  love  to  was  very 
familiar  to  her,  but  had  not  been  productive  of  much  pleasure 
for  her.  On  the  contrary,  more  annoyances  than  delights  had 
attended  it  so  far,  as  it  gave  rise  to  a  slightly  strained  feeling 
sometimes  between  her  mother  and  herself.  The  choice  before 
her  had  been,  whether  she  should  be  a  countess  or  a  sister  of 
mercy ;  and,  though  she  was  content  to  float  joyously  along 
the  stream  of  life  when  not  pressed  for  an  immediate  decision, 
the  details  attending  the  process  of  entering  either  walk  of  life 
repelled  her  whenever  she  faced  them  at  close  quarters.  To 
marry  a  man  of  the  plain  middle  class  !  This  was  an  entirely 
new  idea,  and  as  she  turned  her  face  round  to  Merland  at  the 
sound  of  her  name,  with  that  electric  thrill  in  the  tone  of  it, 
and  fixed  her  large  eyes  open  wider  than  ever  on  her  companion, 
the  idea  was  one  that  was  altogether  too  puzzling  to  be  dealt 
with  at  once.  She  was  only  conscious  vaguely  that  Merland 
was  somehow  transfigured.     She  had  never  stopped  to  criticize 


OONTBASTED   VISIONS.  lOS 

him  in  her  mind  before.  She  looked  at  him  now  as  if  for  the 
first  time.  She  saw  that  a  light  flush  had  covered  the  upper 
part  of  his  face ;  she  was  aware  that  he  was  handsomely  made, 
broad  shouldered  though  sliglit ;  that  his  eyes  radiated  a  fire 
that  gave  her  a  nervous  thrill,  and  with  parted  lips  in  wonder 
she  could  not  but  listen  to  what  he  had  to  say. 

"  Miss  Yaughan,  we  have  both  chosen  the  same  path  in  life. 
Can  we  tread  it  together  ] "  As  he  spoke — slowly,  though 
with  passion — he  put  his  left  hand  under  hers  that  had  been 
stretched  out  pointing  to  the  village,  and  clasped  it  over  with 
his  right  She  did  not  impulsively  draw  it  away.  "I  am 
putting  my  whole  heart  and  life's  happiness  into  the  question. 
I  have  never  loved  another  woman  and  I  never  shall.  I  shall 
worship  you  always  whether  it  pleases  you  to  give  me  ineffable 
blessings  or  to  decree  that  my  life  shall  end,  as  far  as  all  joy  of 
it  for  me  will  be  concerned,  here  to-day." 

She  drew  her  hand  slowly  and  gently  away  while  he  spoke, 
though  not  as  if  in  resentment,  and  held  it,  with  closed  fingers, 
on  her  bosom.     Merland  went  on, — 

"  I  could  not  but  speak — I  love  you  so  wildly,  I  have 
thought  of  nothing  else  but  that.  I  might  not  have  dared  to 
speak  to  you  in  this  way  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  thought  of 
giving  up  all  worldly  ambitions.  And  now  1  don't  presume  to 
think  that  1  can  help  you  to  lead  the  other  sort  of  life ;  but 
since  your  choice  seems  just  to  bring  the  infinite  glory  of  your 
companionship  within  my  reach,  or  to  make  it  less  of  madjiess 
than  it  would  be  otherwise  for  me  to  ask  for  this,  I  can't  but 
tell  you  that  I  am  altogether  yours  to  take  or  throw  aside — like 
this  flower,"  he  suddenly  added,  picking  a  bit  of  stephanotis 
blossom  that  happened  to  be  growing  within  reach.  It  seemed 
to  offer  him  a  means  of  getting  an  answer  from  her  that  should 
not  require  spoken  words  for  the  moment,  and  so  be  easier  to 
give,  and  he  held  the  flower  out  bending  before  her,  and  longing 
to  kneel,  but  shrinking  from  any  word  or  gesture  that  should 
be  flavoured  with  theatrical  effect. 

"  You've  taken  me  by  surprise,"  she  said  "  I  ought  to  have 
known,  but  I  never  thought — " 

Her  undecided  attitude  upset  the  young  man's  self-control 
altogether. 

"  Lucy  ! "  he  murmured,  in  a  deeper  voice  than  ever,  "  you 
glory  of  the  world,  come  what  may,  let  me  live  with  the  thought 


104  KABMA. 

of  having  kissed  you."  He  embraced  her  as  he  spoke,  and 
passionately  kissed  her  lips  in  an  instant ;  and  then,  dropping 
on  one  knee  by  an  impulse  of  adoration  as  strong  as  that  which 
had  inspired  the  kiss,  he  held  towards  her  the  flower,  still  in 
his  left  hand,  and  waited  for  her  answer,  looking  up  in  her 
face  with  a  glow  of  devotion  that  no  further  words  could  have 
heightened, — 

"Lucyl" 

It  was  another  voice  that  spoke  the  word,  not  his,  Mrs. 
Vaughan's.  An  unkind  fate  will  contrive  these  surprises  some- 
times. She  had  entered  the  conservatory  with  the  Baron,  not 
in  time  to  see  the  kiss  but  with  the  tableau  full  in  view.  She 
had  come  innocent  of  all  thought  of  espionage.  She  had  simply 
sought  the  first  excuse  that  offered  to  claim  the  Baron's  arm  after 
breakfast,  and  strolling  about  the  battlements  had  come  at  the 
critical  moment  into  the  conservatory — both  she  and  her  partner. 

Merland  rose  to  his  feet — not  hurriedly.  In  the  spasm  of 
misery  that  crossed  his  feelings,  as  he  realized  the  interruption, 
he  felt  inclined  to  ignore  even  that,  and  get  his  answer  in  face 
of  aU  the  world.  But  this  was  an  impulse  that  passed  away  as 
it  was  formed.  It  merely  operated  to  make  him  proudly  defiant 
of  all  pretence  of  concealment,  and  so  rise  deliberately  and  face 
about,  looking  with  gravity  and  head  erect  at  the  enemy— how 
could  he  feel  that  she  would  be  anything  but  that  ? 

Mrs.  Vaughan  was  a  lady  of  very  finished  tact  and  self- 
possession.  She  made  no  impulsive  remark  beyond  the  sudden 
utterance  of  her  daughter's  name.  There  was  a  pause  of, 
perhaps,  ten  seconds.     Then  she  said, — 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  here,  Lucy,  my  dear ;  but,  since 
you  are,  may  I  beg  you  to  come  with  me  a  moment.  I  was 
wanting  to  ask  you  a  question." 

Lucy,  moving  as  in  a  dream,  crossed  the  conservatory  to  her 
mother's  side  and  quietly  followed  her  out  on  to  the  battle- 
ments. The  Baron  remained  behind.  As  Lucy  vanished  from 
their  sight  a  heavy  weight,  as  of  lead,  settled  down  upon  the 
young  man's  heart,  and  the  desperate  need  of  getting  his  answer 
rushed  upon  him  as  with  sudden  fury.  He  was  already  weigh- 
ing in  his  mind  the  question  whether  he  should  dash  out  in 
pursuit  of  mother  and  daughter  together — when  the  Baron 
spoke.  In  a  grave,  mellifluous  voice,  the  mere  sound  of  which 
seemed  strangely  soothing,  he  said, — 


00NTEA8TBD    VISIONS.  105 

"  Wise  man  never  obtrude  counsel,  but  kindly  natures  may, 
it  least,  sometimes  offer  it  to  a  brother." 

Merland  gazed  at  him  for  a  few  moments  very  respectfully, 
but  not  knowing  what  reply  to  make.  Then,  in  a  grating  voice, 
he  simply  said, — 

"  She  had  not  had  time  to  answer." 

"  She  will  have  time,"  said  the  Baron ;  "  sit  down."  There 
were  two  or  three  light  iron  chairs  about,  one  of  them  a  low- 
folding,  easy  chair,  to  which  the  Baron  motioned  Merland.  "  If 
she  comes  back  I  wiU  leave  you.  For  the  moment  you  can  only 
wait." 

**  What  a  tormenting  interruption  t " 

"Most  exasperating  for  you."  The  Baron  was  gravely 
sympathetic.  To  third  persons,  sometimes,  there  is  a  flavour  of 
comicality  in  a  situation  like  that  in  which  Merland  had  been 
surprised,  but  no  trace  of  amusement  in  the  Baron's  manner 
betrayed  the  smallest  indication  on  his  part  to  treat  the  young 
man's  embarassment  with  levity.  Both  remained  silent  for  a 
little  while. 

**  If  I  only  knew  what  to  do  next,"  Merland  said  at  last. 

"  To  do  nothing  is  often  the  hardest  trial  of  all,  but  that  may 
be  the  very  essence  of  patience,  which  is  a  form  of  wisdom 
sometimes.  But  I  will  not  try  to  soothe  you  with  platitudes, 
only  with  sympathy  in  your  present  acute,  though  I  hope  but 
temporary,  distress." 

"  I  would  have  bowed  to  her  decision  without  murmuring, 
whatever  it  had  been,  but  it  is  hard  that  a  third  person  should 
intervene.  I  can't  be  submissive  to  an  answer  constrained  or 
tampered  with." 

The  young  man  leaned  his  head  back  with  knitted  brows  against 
the  high  back  of  the  chair,  and  closed  his  eyes.  The  Baron 
slightly  smiled  for  the  first  time,  a  kindly  gentle  smile,  with  no 
touch  of  satire  or  scorn  in  it,  and  leaning  forward  towards  Mer- 
land waved  his  right  hand  slowly  across  his  face.  The  young 
man  was  unconscious  of  the  movement,  his  eyes  remaining 
closed.  He  had  leaned  back  in  the  chair  with  the  feeling  of 
seeking  in  intense  and  concentrated  thought  for  light  in  his 
dilemma ;  and  with  a  sense  of  embittered  resentment  against 
Mrs.  Vaucrhan,  whose  influence  with  her  daughter,  he  in- 
stinctively realized,  would  not  be  on  his  side.  But  across  the 
storm  of  anxiety  on  this  point  in  Ids  mind  there  came  up  so 


106  KAEMA. 

vividly,  as  he  shut  out  the  sight  of  outer  objects,  a  sense  of  the 
intoxicating  loveliness  of  the  beautiful  creature  to  whom  he  had 
just  declared  his  passion,  that  the  weight  at  his  heart  seemed 
stirred  and  changed  to  a  yearning  that  was  mingled  with  delight. 
He  merged  his  whole  being,  as  it  were,  in  that  emotion.  He  was 
dimly  aware  of  intentionally  remaining  quite  still  lest  movement 
should  disturb  this  mental  contemplation,  and  then  all  conscious 
effort  to  retain  his  thoughts  so  fixed,  was  lost  in  the  feeling 
of  intense  emotion  that  gathered  and  gathered  at  his  heart; 
and  then,  suddenly  bursting  as  it  were  through  some  invisible 
barrier  in  his  way,  he  had  the  vivid  sense  of  waking  into 
consciousness. 

It  was  near  the  river  he  was  standing,  and  yet  not  at  any 
familiar  place,  on  a  little  platform,  as  it  were,  of  grass  and 
flowers,  with  some  rocks  close  by.  From  behind  these  came  a 
path,  along  which  he  somehow  knew  that  a  figure  had  ap- 
proached, who  now  was  engaged  in  conversation  with  him ; 
though  he  was  too  much  dazed  by  the  suddenness  of  the  change 
to  think  connectedly  or  remember  what  was  said.  The  man 
talking  to  him  was  dressed  in  long  white  robes ;  his  face  was 
dark  in  colour,  as  if  of  a  Spanish  complexion ;  a  short  crisp 
beard  and  moustache  ornamented  without  concealing  the  chin 
and  mouth ;  all  the  features  were  strangely  perfect  in  shape  and 
outline ;  the  eyes  very  large  and  expressive ;  the  brown-black 
hair  turned  back  from  the  forehead  in  very  heavy  masses,  and 
surmounted  by  a  soft  easily-fitting  woollen  cap  edged  with 
brown  fur.  The  general  look  of  the  face  denoted  a  benevolent 
sadness. 

"  Yes,"  the  dignified  stranger  said,  as  if  answering  some  ques- 
tion of  his  own,  the  exact  wording  of  which  he  did  not  remember, 
"you  are  out  of  the  body." 

"  Out  of  the  body,"  Merland  repeated,  vaguely ;  not  as  in  any 
doubt  of  the  assurance,  but,  as  it  were,  confirming  the  fact  to 
himself. 

"  It  is  better  on  that  mountain  top,"  said  the  stranger,  pointing 
across  the  river  to  a  wooded  hill  at  a  little  distance.  "  Let  us 
go,     Eeach  towards  it  with  me.** 

And  Merland  realized  that  his  guardian  was  already  on  in 
advance  of  him  ;  that  the  platform  of  grass  and  the  river  were 
far  below  them ;  that  he  was  floating  in  space,  at  a  great  height, 
and  yet   in  perfect   security.     In  another  moment  they  were 


OONTEASTBD   VISIONS.  107 

standing  together  at  the  place  that  had  been  indicated — in  the 
midst  of  pine- woods  at  the  top  of  a  hill. 

He  could  not  afterwards  remember  the  conversation  that 
passed  here.  He  only  remembered  the  feeling  with  which  he 
stood  beside  the  guardian  figure  among  the  trees — a  feeling  of 
no  heat  or  cold,  of  no  wind  or  hard  ground  beneath  his  feet — 
but  of  being  wrapped  or  bathed  in  a  strange  unfamiliar  sensation 
that  was  unutterably  pleasurable,  and  yet  quite  unlike  the  ex- 
plicit pleasure  of  any  definite  sense.  This  sensation  was  mingled 
with  a  feeling  of  intensely  afiectionate  reverence  for  the  com- 
panion by  his  side.  He  was  unaware  of  time  passing ;  it  never 
struck  him  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  say  anything  to 
express  his  thoughts.  He  stood  under  the  trees,  and  felt  the 
emotions  described,  gazing  at  the  wonderful  face  before  him. 
At  last  the  figure  said, — 

"  I  must  go  now." 

Merland  remembered  putting  out  his  hand  and  aaying 
earnestly, — 

"  I  thank  you  very  deeply  for  having  come." 

The  guardian  figure  smiled  kindly,  without  taking  Merland's 
hand. 

"  I  must  not ;  but  I  wish  you  well.  I  wish  you  very  well — 
good-bye." 

He  passed  through  the  trees  for  a  few  steps,  and  then,  just 
before  disappearing  among  them,  turned  to  wave  his  hand  in  a 
friendly  sign  of  parting.  As  he  was  then  concealed  from  view 
the  vision  was  altogether  clouded.  Merland  had  no  definite 
recollection  of  how  he  left  the  mountain  top.  He  only  felt  him- 
self falling  from  a  height — though  not  with  any  sense  of  peril 
in  the  fall —swooping  downward,  rather  as  a  bird  might  swoop, 
and  then — he  started  up,  broad  awake,  in  the  low  chair  in  the 
conservatory.     The  Baron  had  gone,  and  he  was  alone. 

The  new  sensation  he  had  just  passed  through  left  their 
traces  upon  his  waking  consciousness  so  strongly,  that,  as  he 
came  to  himself,  perceiving  that  he  had  just  waked  up  from  a 
sleep,  his  first  feeling  was  one  of  .acute  disappointment  at  the 
notion  that  what  he  had  just  experienced  was  only  a  dream. 
But  reflection  qualified  that  idea,  as  he  gathered  his  wits  fully 
about  him.  The  passionate  anxiety  of  his  position  in  respect  to 
Lucy  Vaughan  quickly  reasserted  itself.  The  notion  that  he 
liad  fallen  asle^ip  in  tha  ordinary  way,  in  the  midst  of  the  tearing 


108  KATtMA. 

emotions  he  had  been  going  through  that  morning,  was  absurd. 
How  long  had  he  been  in  the  conservatory  ?  Looking  at  his 
watch  he  was  bewildered  to  find  that  several  hours  had  passed. 
It  was  the  late  afternoon.  He  started  up  with  a  sudden  anxiety 
to  know  had  he  in  some  way  lost  Lucy  during  this  strange 
trance.  Could  she  have  been  back  to  the  conservatory,  possibly 
while  he  had  been  sleeping  1  Or  had  he  missed  some  chance 
he  might  have  had  of  getting  to  speak  with  her  again  if  he  had 
been  more  on  the  alert  1  He  hurried  to  the  door.  There  he 
met  the  boy,  Reginald  Hexton,  who  held  out  to  him  a  note.  It 
was  in  the  Baron's  handwriting,  though  without  address  or 
signature — a  mere  folded  scrap  of  paper. 

"Trust  one,"  it  said,  "who  also  wishes  you  well — who  wishes 
you  very  well — that  it  is  better  for  you  both,  in  any  event,  that 
the  young  lady  should  have  gone  away  for  the  present  without 
your  seeing  her  again.  She  and  her  mother  have  left  the 
castle." 

"  They've  gone  1  *'  Merland  said  in  dismay,  and  partly 
questioning  Reginald. 

"  Do  you  mean  the  Vaughans  1    They  went  an  hour  ago." 

Merland  went  back  into  the  conservatory  and  again  sat  down 
to  think.  The  contents  of  the  note  before  him  gave  him,  for 
that  matter,  still  new  subject  for  thought.  The  Baron  used  the 
identical  phrase  about  wishing  him  well — wishing  him  very 
well — that  had  been  uttered  by  the  wonderful  figure  of  his 
vision.  If  anything  had  been  needed,  beyond  his  own  inner 
conviction,  to  assure  him  that  this  had  been  a  reality,  here  was — 
if  not  a  proof,  at  all  events  a  strong  suggestion  to  that  efl'ect. 
But  the  glory,  even  of  the  vision,  was  eclipsed  for  the  time  by 
the  agony  of  knowing  that  she  was  gone.  Was  that  miserable 
catastrophe  the  end  of  his  dream  1  "  Oh,  Lucy,  Lucy  ! "  If  he 
did  break  down,  to  some  extent,  at  all  events  the  young  man 
was  alone,  and  he  had  just  learned  that  there  is  no  more 
poignant  mental  suffering  endurable  by  human  creatures  in  this 
imprisoned  existence  of  the  flesh,  than  the  vain,  vain  longing, 
the  passionate  yearning,  for  a  lost  and  irrecoverable  love. 


A   QUIET   EVENING.  109 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

▲     QUIBT     EVBNINO. 

Thb  Professor  had  now  clearly  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
phenomena  subject  to  the  observation  of  the  party  at  Heiligen- 
fels  were  worthy  of  systematic  record,  and  of  presentation  in 
some  shape  or  other  to  the  world.  Blane  was  equally  of 
opinion  that  this  should  be  done,  but  somewhat  less  hopeful 
concerning  the  likelihood  that  any  statements  they  were  in  a 
position  to  make,  would  command  any  more  respectful  attention 
than  had  been  given  to  a  great  variety  of  previous  writings  on 
similar  subjects  which  had  been  practically  still-born. 

"  The  way  these  things  are  put  has  a  great  deal  to  do,"  the 
Professor  urged,  "  with  the  way  they  are  accepted.  There  have 
not  been  many  narratives  of  abnormal  experience  that  have  been 
guaranteed  by  the  weight  of  so  much  good  evidence  in  corrobo- 
ration of  them  as  we  shall  be  able  to  bring  forward." 

"  As  far,"  Blane  pointed  out,  "  as  that  transaction  with  the 
Baron  in  the  library  was  concerned,  we  have  only  your  story 
and  mine.  Popular  incredulity  is  quite  robust  enough  to  reject 
these  as  insufficient  to  establish  so  stupendous  a  fact  as  that 
disclosed." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  don't  regard  that  incident  by  itself  as 
constituting  our  case.  That  is  merely  the  prima  facie  case 
which  determines  us  to  investigate." 

The  Professor's  programme,  he  went  on  to  explain,  was  to 
organize  two  or  three  striking  and  crucial  experiments  showing 
that  the  volition  of  a  man  was  capable  of  throwing  off  a  force 
productive  of  physical  effects  at  a  distance.  An  immense  revo- 
lution in  scientific  thought  ought,  he  conceived,  to  attend  the 
discovery  and  demonstration  of  this  fact,  which  for  him  and 
Blane,  after  what  they  had  seen,  could  not  but  be  regarded  as  a 
fact,  though  it  was  still  one  of  which  they  had  no  glimmering 
of  an  explanation.  Then  it  would  remain  to  be  seen  whether 
the  Baron  would  not  agree  to  the  disclosure,  of  some  part  at  all 
events,  of  the  law  at  work,  so  that  they  might  be  enabled  to 
present  their  discovery  to  the  world  in  a  way  which  would 
conciliate  a  scientific  audience. 


110  KAEMA. 

"  It  is  no  use  to  have  something  to  tell,"  said  the  Professor ; 
"  you  must  have  something  to  show,  to  secure  the  kind  of 
interest  I  should  like  to  secure — something,  however  slight, 
that  can  be  reproduced  as  an  experiment  as  often  as  we 
please." 

Suggested  to  the  Baron,  however,  this  last  feature  in  the  plan 
met  with  very  little  encouragement. 

"It  is  not  within  the  scope  of  my  instructions,  as  yon  would 
put  it  in  official  English,"  he  said,  "  and  it  is  no  use  arguing  the 
matter  with  me.  You  may  be  right,  or  you  may  be  overlooking 
some  consequences  that  would  ensue  in  the  long  ran  from  the 
course  you  propose,  and  involve  more  harm  than  good.  What 
I  can  do,  I  need  hardly  say  I  will  do,  because  it  is  by  my  desire 
and  suggestion  that  we  are  all  assembled  here  to  talk  over  these 
things.  But  I  shall  merely  at  present  be  able  to  demonstrate 
for  you,  and  not  to  explain." 

"  Even  that  will  be  interesting,  deeply  interesting,  my  dear 
Baron.  Don't  suppose  I  undervalue  your  demonstration ;  but 
in  the  matter  of  advancing  human  knowledge  the  demonstration 
alone  will  never  be  held — outside  the  limits  of  our  own  circle 
— to  be  conclusive  as  regards  the  fact.  No  matter  what  pre- 
cautions we  take  some  ingenious  donkey  will  come  after  us  and 
suggest  that  we  have  not  definitely  recorded  that  our  eyes  were 
open  at  the  time  of  the  occurrence — or  that  we  did  not  begin 
by  getting  medical  certificates  of  our  sanity." 

"  No  doubt ;  but  at  least  I  have  enabled  you  to  fortify  your 
own  evidence  by  that  of  several  others.  You  are  not  alone  at 
the  castle." 

In  this  way  it  came  to  be  arranged  that  the  Baron  should 
again  perform  an  experiment  analogous  to  that  by  means  of 
which  he  had  broken  the  pane  of  glass  in  the  library  window, 
and  also  do  something  to  produce,  within  narrow  limits,  sus- 
ceptible of  exact  observation,  some  physical  effects  of  a  more 
enduring  kind  than  those  associated  with  a  simple  display  of 
force.  The  general  ideas  of  the  experiments  were  left  to  Blane 
and  the  Professor  to  arrange. 

Blane  proposed  to  ask  Annerly  to  join  this  preliminary 
conference.  Neither  he  nor  the  Professor  were  aware  of  the 
nature  of  the  conversations  that  had  already  passed  between 
Annerly  and  the  Baron ;  but  Blane  had  developed  a  very  kindly 
feeling  for  his  new  acquaintance,  and  was  disposed  to  bring  him 


A   QUIET   EVENING.  Ill 

into  confidential  relationship,  in  this  matter,  with  the  intereirt- 
ing  investigation  in  hand. 

**  I  haven't  a  word  to  say  against  Annerly,"  said  the  Pro- 
fessor ;  but  no  help  is  wanted  in  arranging  the  programme  of 
our  operations." 

"  An  extra  head  may  save  us  from  some  oversight,"  Blane 
suggested ;  but  the  matter  was  dropped  for  the  moment. 

However,  Mrs.  Lakesby  happened  to  come  on  the  scene  just 
then — they  were  talking  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  on  which 
the  incidents  last  recounted  had  taken  place,  and  were  out  on 
the  terrace  alone,  the  Baron  having  gone  in.  The  Professor 
was  always  ready  to  give  a  gallant  turn  to  any  situation,  so  he 
put  a  new  construction  on  Blane's  last  words. 

*'Very  well  then;  if  an  extra  head  is  wanted  here  is  on© 
that  I  am  sure  is  able  to  furnish  sound  counsel  in  all  emer- 
gencies, on  Mrs.  Lakesby's  shoulders." 

"  Mrs.  Lakesby,"  replied  that  lady,  "  knows  her  place,  as  the 
servants  say,  too  well  to  give  advice  to  Professor  Massilton. 
But  if  you  would  care  to  know  what  I  saw  as  I  came  towards 
you  that  may  be  the  answer  to  something." 

"  How  do  you  mean  what  you  saw  1 " 

"  I'm  always  getting  flashes  of  that  sort — impressions — it  is 
difficult  to  describe  them ;  pictures  in  the  astral  light  some 
people  call  them.  They  show  things  that  have  happened  some- 
times connected  with  the  people  who  bring  them  up,  or  things 
that  are  going  to  happen  sometimes." 

"  That  mystery,"  said  Blane,  "  about  the  prediction  of  events, 
leads  us  straight  up  to  some  exasperating  metaphysical  ques- 
tions." 

"  But  for  the  present  let  us  keep  to  the  facts,"  said  the  Pro- 
fessor. "  You  say,  Mrs.  Lakesby,  that  you  saw  some  picture 
of  this  sort  as  you  came  up  to  us.     What  was  it  ? " 

*'  I  saw  you  two,  and  several  other  people — I  can't  tell  you 
exactly  who — in  a  wood,  and  sometiiing  exciting  was  going  on, 
though  I  can't  precisely  say  what." 

*'  In  a  wood  ?  "  repeated  the  Professor,  thoughtfully ;  "  there 
is  an  idea  in  that  at  any  rate.  It  might  be  better  to  arrange 
the  experiment  out  of  doors  rather  than  in  the  house.  What 
do  you  think  ? "  turning  to  Blane.  "  It  might  leave  less  room 
for  objections  afterwards." 

The  point  under  consideration  was  then  explained  to  Mrs. 


112  KARMA. 

Lakesby,  and  she  gave  a  confident  opinion  that  they  would 
arrange  their  experiment  out  of  doors,  according  to  the  impres- 
sion she  obtained. 

"  But  the  question  is  not  to  be  taken  out  of  our  hands  by  any 
fixed  destiny,"  said  the  Professor ;  we  will  do  just  what  we 
think  right  and  fitting  and  best  to  do.  We  don't  yet  know, 
and  nobody  can  yet  know,  what  plan  we  shall  settle  on." 

"I'm  sure  you'll  settle  on  some  plan  with  a  wood  in  it," 
said  Mrs.  Lakesby. 

The  Professor  protested  against  prejudging  the  question  that 
way,  but  the  more  they  talked  the  matter  over,  the  more  reason- 
able it  seemed  to  have  the  principal  experiment  out  of  doors, 
so  that  no  suspicion  could,  at  any  time,  attach  to  the  room  in 
which  it  might  otherwise  take  place.  The  conversation  natu- 
rally brought  them  back,  more  than  once,  to  Mrs.  Lakesby's 
clairvoyant  impressions  about  people. 

**  Have  you  had  any  other  impressions  since  you  have  been 
here  1 "  the  Professor  asked — "  of  the  kind  like  that  just  men- 
tioned t  * 

"Why,  of  course  I  have,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby.  "I  am 
always  seeing  something  or  other  or  some  spirit  or  other  about 
people.     It  keeps  me  amused  when  nothing  else  is  going  on." 

"  Keeps  you  amused !  How  can  you  treat  such  an  extra- 
ordinary condition  of  things  so  lightly  1 " 

"What  is  there  in  it  to  go  into  hysterics  about  t  Ifs  all 
just  as  natural  to  me  as  the  trees  and  flowers." 

"  But,  for  the  sake  of  others,  to  advance  knowledge,  you 
ought  to  detail  and  record  your  impressions,  and  check  them  by 
discussing  them  with  the  persons  concerned." 

"  And  get  myself  shut  up  in  a  lunatic  asylum  before  I  was  a 
year  older.  I  chatter  a  good  deal  too  much  as  it  is  I  think, 
though  I  never  do  more  than  answer  questions,  and  only  half 
of  them.  I  haven't  gone  through  life  till  I'm  a  middle-aged 
widow  without  learning  a  few  lessons,  Professor  Massilton" 

"  On  the  contrary,  you  are  still  too  young  and  giddy  to  know 
better,"  replied  the  Professor,  patting  Mrs  Lakesby's  shoulder, 
in  his  easy,  fatherly  manner.  When  you  grow  older  you  will 
get  more  serious.  But  now,  will  you  kindly  let  me  know  if 
you  have  over  seen  anything  in  connection  with  myself  ? " 

"  Don't  expect  me  to  tell  tales  out  of  school  If  I  chance 
to  see  more  of  my  friends'  private  affairs  this  way  than  I  have 


A   QUIET   EVENING.  113 

any  business  to  know  about,  I  am,  at  least,  discreet  enough  to 
hold  my  tongue." 

"  But  this  is  too  tantalising  to  be  home !  "What  have  you 
seen  about  my  private  affairs  ? " 

"  I'll  toll  you  some  day  if  you  want  to  know ;  when  we 
are  quite  alone.'* 

Blane  instantly  begged  pardon  for  being  de  irqpf  and  was 
moving  off. 

*•  Don't  go  far  away,  old  fellow.  I'll  get  my  crimes  re- 
vealed  to  me  in  a  few  minutes,  and  then  you  can  come  back. 
Now  what  have  you  found  out  about  me  1  Pray  tell  me,  Mrs. 
Lakesbyl" 

"  I  never  try  to  find  out  anything  about  people.  You  don't 
know  how  dishonourable  I  think  that  would  be.  It  would  be 
taking  a  mean  advantage." 

"  But  you  have  seen  something  without  trying  to  find  out. 
You  really  will  oblige  me  immensely  by  telling  me  what  it  is." 

"  Well,  I've  seen  a  woman  about  you  sometimes.  Not  a 
spirit — nobody  who's  dead ;  somebody  that  your  thought  calls 
up  the  picture  of,  I  suppose." 

"  That  doesn't  sound  alarming." 

"  I  did  not  say  it  was.  She's  a  young  woman,  and  handsome; 
tall,  with  broad  brow,  and  brown  hair  rippled  on  each  side; 
large  dark  eyes,  and  I  seem  to  see  her  in  a  kind  of  dark-blu% 
silk  dress." 

The  Professor  looked  more  serious  a  little.  Speaking  slowly 
and  reflectively  he  said, — 

"Yes,  that  might  be  some  one  I  know.  The  description 
certainly  tallies." 

"  She  doesn't  look  at  you  as  if  she  was  grateful  to  you  for 
anything,"  Mrs.  Lakesby  added,  with  an  upward  glance  in  the 
Professor^s  face.     "  She  looks  rather  reproachful." 

The  Professor  said  nothing  in  reply  to  this  at  first,  then  with 
some  hesitation, — 

"  That  is  strange.     Has  she  said  anything  1 " 

**  I  tell  you  she  is  not  a  spirit  that  can  talk  to  me.  She  is 
merely  a  picture  drawn  out  of  your  mind ;  but  I  have  got  an 
impression  about  her  name." 

"What  then?" 

"  I  should  think  it  was  Miriam.  There  now/'  as  the  Pro- 
feseor  yisibly  started,  and  changed  colour.     "  Am  I  right  to  try 


114  KABMA. 

not  to  find  out  about  people's  private  aflFaire  P     I  tell  you,  I  try 
to  avoid  doinjT  so." 

"  It  certainly  is  startling.  I  do  not  conceive  that  I  have 
anything  to  reproach  myself  with — not  seriously,  in  regard  to 
the  lady  you  mention — I  may  have  acted  foolishly — " 

"Well,  don't  confess  yourself  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby, 
"  I'm  merely  answering  your  questions ;  and  yet  there  is  one 
thing  that  puzzles  me,  and  I  should  like  to  know  about.  But 
no — I'll  stick  to  my  rule.  It's  no  business  of  mine,  and  I  won't 
have  it." 

"  But  can  you  tell  me  more  t    You  interest  me  intensely  on 
all  grounds.     As   a  psychological  problem  the  thing  is   most 
remarkable.     Where  is  the  lady  now  1     Can  you  tell  me  that?" 
"  I  don't  know.     I  haven't  any  impression  in  the  matter." 
**  Can  you  find  out  1 " 

**  Perhaps.  I'm  not  sure.  If  you've  got  a  piece  of  her  hail 
I  suppose  I  could,  unless  too  many  people  have  been  fingering  it.* 
**  I  haven't  here  at  any  rate.  But,  Mrs.  Lakesby — though, 
as  I  told  you,  my  conscience  is  quite  clear  in  this  matter — I  do 
not  pretend  to  deny  that  I  would  rather  not  have  this  example 
of  your  powers  generaUy  discussed — " 

Mrs.  Lakesby  laughed.  "Don't  be  alarmed.  I  said  that 
I've  learned  some  lessons,  and  I  try  not  to  make  mischief.  I'm 
not  sure  if  I've  been  wise  to  mention  the  matter  at  all,  even  to 
you." 

Blane  was  called  back  after  this,  and  the  Professor  said 
that  Mrs.  Lakesby  had,  by  reference  to  some  private  afi'airs  of 
his  own,  given  him  a  very  striking  proof  of  her  clairvoyant 
insight.     Then  the  matter  was  put  aside. 

The  hurried  departure  of  the  Vaughans  was  greatly  deplored 
by  the  other  guests  that  evening,  but  explained  by  Mrs.  Miller 
in  perfect  good  faith,  as  owing  to  letters  which  had  recalled 
Mrs.  Vaughan  to  London  on  urgent  family  business.  Merland 
was  an  absentee  from  the  dinner-table  on  pretence  of  indispo- 
sition, and  no  fresh  incidents  took  place  in  reference  to 
psychic  investigation.  After  dinner  Miss  Blane  sang  a  little, 
Annerly  as  usual  playing  her  accompaniments.  Whist  occu- 
pied some  of  the  others ;  the  Professor,  even,  contrary  to  his 
usual  inclination,  joining  the  rubber,  as  if  moved  by  a  desire  to 
show  attention  to  his  wife.  Mrs.  Miller  was  reading,  and  the 
Baron  slipped  away.     Mrs.  Lakesby  and  Blane  were  talking  on 


A   QUIET   EVENING.  115 

a  distant  sofa,  and  the  musicians  gradually  drifted  into  deep 
discussions  of  their  art,  illustrated  by  bits  of  sonatas  and  fugues 
that  came  forth  from  under  Annerly's  fingers.  With  their 
common  musical  tastes  as  a  link,  and  the  pleasant  conditions  of 
the  castle-party  to  provide  people  inclined  to  be  together  with 
abundant  opportunities,  Annerly  and  Miss  Blane  had  been  a 
good  deal  drawn  together  during  the  past  week.  Nothing  was 
further  from  Annerly's  imaginings  in  connection  with  this  inti- 
macy than  any  thought  of  ingratiating  himself  specially  with 
the  girl.  He  had  not  only  no  confidence  in  his  own  ability  to 
please  women,  but  an  exaggerated  and  nervous  conviction  that 
this  must  always  be  impossible  for  him.  He  would,  moreover, 
for  reasons  connected  with  the  views  of  life  he  was  now 
forming  under  the  Baron's  influence,  have  been  peculiarly 
reluctant  to  run  the  risk  of  reviving  in  his  own  nature  emo- 
tions of  the  sort  that  had  already  cost  him  so  much ;  so  his 
intercourse  with  Miss  Blane  had  been  of  the  most  guileless 
and  straightforward  kind.  But  he  had  insensibly  grown  inti- 
mate with  her;  she  was  attractive  and  sympathetic,  and  he 
was,  perhaps,  more  indebted  to  her  than  he  was  altogether 
aware  of,  for  a  general  sense  of  relief  he  had  experienced  of 
late  from  smouldering  remedies  of  a  painful  flavour.  She 
began  to  tell  him  something  this  evening,  in  the  pauses  of  their 
playing,  about  her  family. 

"  Willy  and  I  are  alone  in  the  world,  exceept  for  cousins,  of 
which  we  have  great  crowds.  My  grandfather's  was  a  large 
family — a  great  many  girls  who  married  about  all  over  the 
country,  and  we  generally  cruise  amongst  their  houses  in  the 
autumn,  but  Willy  made  everything  give  way  to  this  visit. 
My  mother  died  when  I  was  quite  little — you  may  have 
heard — and  my  father  three  or  four  years  ago.  It  would  have 
been  sad  indeed  for  me  if  it  had  not  been  for  Willy,  but  he 
makes  up  for  a  great  deal.  I  don't  think  anybody  else  in  the 
world  is  so  good  as  he  is — so  unselfish,  and  so  sweet-tempered, 
and  so  good  to  me." 

"  I  can  see  that  he  is  all  that — a  beautiful  nature  I  most  fully 
recognize — though  in  that  matter  of  being  good  to  you  I  dare  say 
virtue  is  its  own  reward." 

"  Ah  well !  brothers  generally  find  sisters  more  trouble  than 
they're  worth  on  the  whole.  Perhaps  you  haven't  got  aziy 
siaters  to  judge  by  1 " 

I  3 


116  KAEMA. 

Annerly  was  flo  little  prone  to  speaking  about  himself  that 
Miss  Blane  had  no  exact  knowledge  of  his  family  circumstances, 
though  they  had  been  gossiping  so  much  together.  At  the 
implied  question  Annerly's  brow  darkened  a  little. 

"  I've  been  living  away  from  my  family  since  my  boyhood. 
I  have  a  sister,  but  she  is  married,  older  than  myself,  and  I 
rarely  see  her." 

As  an  inner  consciousness  of  the  very  different  stations  in 
life,  of  the  girl  he  was  talking  to  and  the  sister  of  whom  he 
spoke,  surged  up  in  his  mind,  the  irritating  sense  that  so  often 
possessed  him,  of  being  a  sort  of  impostor  in  the  society  he  was 
now  living  with,  asserted  itself  very  strongly. 

**  I  don't  properly  belong  to  your  world,  Miss  Blane,"  he 
said  ;  "  my  people  are  in  a  very  humble  way  of  life.  My  friend 
Merland  has  dragged  me  into  society,  where  I  have  no  business 
to  be." 

"  What  an  idea  !  Why,  you  are  a  distinguished  man.  Any- 
body must  be  proud  to  have  you  for  a  guest." 

"  If  you  knew  what  mockery  that  sounds — though  I  know 
you  mean  it  kindly.  The  world  of  letters  is  Bohemian  enough 
to  welcome  any  man  who  can  claim  its  attention  in  any  way, 
but  that  does  not  apply  to  the  world  of  fashion  to  which  you 
belong." 

"  How  Willy  would  writhe  at  the  thought  Ask  him  if  he 
considers  himself  a  man  of  fashion." 

"Well,  it  does  not  matter;  but  in  the  rare  cases  when  I 
happen  to  grow  in  the  least  degree  intimate  with  people  above 
me  in  station,  I  shrink  from  feeling  an  impostor,  and  so  am 
driven  to  speak  of  myself,  though  to  do  that  is  almost  as  dis- 
agreeable.    Pray  let  us  talk  of  something  else." 

A  proposal  to  "talk  of  something  else"  is  not  often  the  surest 
way  of  changing  the  subject.  Miss  Blane  was  silent  for  a  little 
while,  Annerly's  fingers  straying  over  the  keys,  and  then  she  said, — 

'*  I  think  it  would  be  better  that  you  should  talk  about  your- 
self till  you  do  not  find  it  painful  any  more.  It's  only  a  morbid 
fancy  you  have  got." 

"  There  is  no  aspect  in  which  the  subject  can  be  ©therwise 
than  repulsive-" 

"  Hundreds  of  people  you  never  see  find  no  ifubject  more 
interesting — when  they  talk  about  your  books,  which  if  cme 
aspect  of  you  lurely." 


AN   BXOITING  NIGHT.  117 

**  Reflections  of  my  mind  do  not  constitute  my  personality — 
or  even  an  aspect  of  it.  I'm  a  creature  under  a  curse,  which 
anybody  can  see  for  himself.'* 

"  What  extravagant  nonsense  you  are  talking  ! " 

" —  and  I'm  likely  to  feel  the  curse  least  heavily  the  less 
I  obtrude  myself  on  my  fellow-creatures." 

"  1  think  you  have  been  brooding  over  some  fancies  of  your 
own,  ^Ir.  Annerly,  till  you  have  got  into  a  very  unhealthy  and 
nervous  state  of  mind.  Who  was  it — some  great  wit  who 
prided  himself  on  being  ugly — who  said  he  only  wanted  ten 
minutes'  start  of  the  handsomest  man  living  when  he  was 
talking  to  a  woman  ? " 

•*  Marian,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Miller  from  her  arm-chair — 
suddenly  desirous  of  proving  to  the  public  generally  that  she 
was  not  asleep,  "  do  sing  something  more.  That  was  very 
sweet,  the  last  thing." 

"  The  last  thing  was  a  fugue  of  Bach's,  and  I  didn't  sing  it. 
Mr.  Annerly  played  it." 

The  interruption,  however,  changed  the  subject  at  last,  and 
their  conversation  did  not  fall  back  into  the  previous  groove. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AN   EXCITINO   NIGHT. 

When  a  separation  for  the  night  took  place,  Annerly  went  to 
Meriand's  room  to  see  how  he  was  getting  on,  unsuspicious  so 
far  of  any  extraordinary  incidents  afl'ecting  him.  He  found 
Merland  sitting  idle  in  an  arm-chair,  without  books  or  papers 
in  his  hand,  and  something  in  his  dejected  attitude  struck 
Annerly  at  once. 

"  HaUoa,  old  man  1     Aren't  you  feeling  any  better  ? " 
**  You  don't  know  what  the  matter  is,  Gfeordie.     Sit  down 
and  I'll  tell  you.     I'm  half  crazy." 

.  The  story  took  some  time  to  tell,  in  a  jerky  disjointed  way, 
mingled  with  explanations  of  the  beautiful  programme  Merland 
had  constructed  in  his  own  mind  in  reference  to  the  continued 


118  KABMA. 

study  of  the  higher  occultism  with  the  glorious  life-long  com- 
panionsbip  of  Miss  Vaughan  to  gild  and  glorify  the  undertaking. 
Annerly  was  deeply  disturbed  at  what  he  heard. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  am  more  distressed  than  I  can  tell  you. 
Either  way  you  must  meet  with  disappointment  If  you 
marry  ^liss  Vaughan — " 

"  Oh,  marry  Miss  Vaughan.  I  tell  you  I'm  a  ridiculous 
lunatic.  She's  miles  above  my  reach.  I  had  an  instinctive 
dread  of  that  all  the  while,  but  I  was  too  much  dazzled  to  think 
rationally.  Now  that  her  mother  has  swept  her  off  this  way  in 
horror  and  dismay  at  the  bare  idea  of  my  presumption,  I  can 
see  how  it  is." 

*'  There  I  don't  follow  you.  You're  a  gentleman  and  well 
enough  off  to  make  a  home  for  any  girl  who  cared  for 
you—" 

"  With  a  girl  of  that  sort  it  is  not  a  question  of  a  home.  I 
can  see  that  now— I  have  thought  it  all  out.  It's  sure  to  be 
rank  and  some  great  position  her  friends  want  for  her.  I 
haven't  a  chance  of  her ;  and  yet  it  may  be  the  intensity  of  my 
own  feelings  that  blinded  me,  but  I  can't  help  thinking  I  should 
have  had  a  chance  of  her  if  there  had  been  only  herself  to  deal 
with.  She  did  not  say  *  No,'  and  she  had  had  time  to  say  that 
much  if  she  had  meant  to — unless,  indeed,  she  was  just  simply 
too  much  paralyzed  by  my  audacity  to  speak." 

"  But,  my  dear  Claude,  that  is  not  what  I  am  wanting  to 
discuss.  The  important  point  is  that  you  have  altogether  mis- 
conceived the  kind  of  effort  which  would  be  calculated  to  win 
you  the  real  crown  of  occult  knowledge,  if  you  have  supposed 
that  you  could  play  fast  and  loose  with  the  thing  in  this  way. 
I  am  greatly  to  blame,  I  fear,  for  not  having  made  the  position 
clearer  to  you  at  first,  but  you  have  never  shown  any  inclination 
to  fall  in  love  this  way.  It  did  not  occur  to  me  that  you  would 
do  that.  You  can't  outstrip  your  natural  development  and 
make  yourself  a  true  mystic,  with  the  wonderful  faculties  and 
knowledge  we  see  the  Baron  to  possess,  without  giving  youiv 
self  up  to  that  effort  altogether.  If  you  get  married  and  go 
in  for  that  sort  of  life  you  cut  yourself  off  altogether  from  the 
other." 

Merland  gazed  at  him  with  knitted  brows.  , 

"  But  why  should  that  be  with  such  a  marriage  as  I  was 
dreaming  of.     The  dream  is  pretty  effectually  over  for  that 


AN   EXCITING   NIGHT,  119 

matter,  but  she  would  have  had  no  taste  for  a  common-place 

worldly  career  of  pleasure.  She  was  just  as  keen  upon  the 
whole  subject  as  I  am.  If  what  I  thought  of  had  been  possible 
we  should  have  helped  one  another." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  the  notion  is  altogether  wild — I  do  assure 
you.  I  have  learned  enough  to  know  that  much.  The  pursuit 
of  occult  wisdom  is  only  to  be  undertaken  by  a  man  who,  to 
begin  with,  makes  a  total  renunciation  of  every  sort  of  happiness 
in  this  life.  You  might  dabble  at  the  very  edge  of  the  sea — 
with  a  wife  to  share  your  amusement,  but  you  could  never 
launch  out  into  deep  water  if  you  had  somebody  else  to  hold 
up.  But  the  metaphor  is  incomplete.  Look  at  what  you  are 
aiming  at — if  you  take  up  the  occult  life  seriously.  You  are 
trying  to  secure  a  spiritual  triumph,  stupendously  greater  than 
any  which  naturally  belongs  to  an  ordinary  good  life.  An 
absolutely  single-minded  devotion  to  that  one  idea  is  a  sine  qua 
non.  Happiness  along  the  ordinary  channels  of  happiness  in 
this  life  woidd  necessarily  be  fatal  to  your  progress.  The  links 
which  would  bind  you  to  a  happy  life  on  the  physical  plane 
would  be  just  those  which  would  most  certainly  hold  you  back 
from  any  upward  mounting  on  the  other  plane.  To  renounce 
all  thought  of  woman's  love  is  absolutely  the  first  step  to  take 
on  the  path  you  talked  of  treading,  and  that  I  mean  to  tread  if 
I  can,  easy  for  me,  perhaps  you  will  say,  to  renounce  what  I 
could  never  dream  of  attaining, — but  with  you  the  case  ia 
different,  very  different  indeed  as  I  see  now." 

"  I  haven't  told  you  all  that  occurred  to  me  to-day,"  Merland 
said,  after  a  pause.  "  I've  been  so  upset  by  what  I  have  told 
you  about,  that  the  other  thing  has  dwelt  less  in  my  thoughts 
than  it  would  hare  done  otherwise."  And  then  he  described 
the  vision  he  had  had,  while  unconscious  of  other  surroundings, 
in  the  conservatory. 

Annerly  was  deeply  affected  by  this. 

"  I  tell  you  you've  been  privileged  indeed,  Merland,  to  have 
had  this  experience  and  at  such  a  critical  moment  too." 

"  Ordinary  people  if  I  told  them  would  simply  say  I  had 
fallen  asleep  and  had  been  dreaming.  But  I  know  the  difference 
between  what  I  went  through  and  the  most  vivid  dream  I  ever 
had  in  my  life.  Besides,  it  would  be  absurd  to  talk  of  my 
falling  asleep  at  such  a  time." 

**  Of  course  it  would  be.     The  Baron's  presence  alone  would 


120  KAEMA. 

aettle  the  question,  moreover.  He  threw  you  of  course  into  a 
mesmeric  trance  in  which  you  had  this  wonderful  experience. 
I  wonder  who  it  was  you  saw  when  you  were  out  of  the  body  1 
The  Baron  would  tell  you,  perhaps.  But  the  point  of  the  whole 
thing  is  in  the  manifest  meaning  of  the  vision.  My  dear  Claude, 
its  meaning  was  that  you  should  see  your  two  roads  before  you. 
There  lies  the  choice — which  will  you  foUow  :  woi  Idly  happiness 
with  Miss  Yaughan  and  an  ordinary  life  ending  in  the  manifold 
perils  of  nature  that  I  do  not  pretend  yet  fully  to  realize,  or  the 
sublime  attainment  of  that  higher  spiritual  life  of  which  you 
had  a  brief  glimpse  1  Still  less  do  I  realize  all  that  it  means, 
but  I  realize  enough  to  feel  its  immeasurable  superiority  to  any 
other  sort  possible  for  mortal  man." 
Merland  sat  silent  for  a  time. 

"  I  see  the  force  of  what  you  say,"  he  declared  at  last. 
"But  I  only  feel  the  collapse  of  my  hopes  about  Miss 
Yaughan." 

"Claude,  there  is  no  man  living,  I  think,  who  can  better 
understand  such  feelings  than  I.  In  a  very  different  way  I 
have  known  what  that  sort  of  collapse  means,  but  I  can  say 
truly  now  that  I  would  not  restore  my  own  happiness  in  this 
life  even  if  I  could.  It  is  not  happiness  I  am  in  pursuit  of, 
but  a  sublime  sort  of  exaltation,  that  a  man  would  be  base  not 
to  choose  in  preference  to  happiness,  it  seems  to  me." 

Their  talk  went  on  for  some  time  longer  in  a  vague  and 
desultory  way,  when  they  finally  separated.  Annerly  discovered 
much  food  for  reflection,  in  its  bearings  on  his  own  position,  in 
what  had  passed.  He  found  himself  more  affected  than  he  had 
realized  at  the  time  by  the  few  significant  words  Miss  Blane 
had  spoken  at  the  piano.  He  was  far  indeed  from  the  vanity 
of  supposing  that  he  had  made  an  impression  on  her  which 
would  be  likely  to  pave  the  way  for  more  intimate  relations  if 
he  followed  it  up ;  but  still,  in  embracing,  as  he  had,  the  pro- 
spect of  a  life  to  be  altogether  devoted  to  spiritual  enlightenment, 
how  far  had  he  been  acting  under  the  sting  of  the  great  dis- 
appointment he  had  felt  so  keenly  1  Supposing  an  ordinarily 
happy  life  should  present  itself  to  him  as  a  possibility,  say  by 
reason  of  an  attachment  between  such  a  girl  as  Miss  Blane  and 
himself,  would  he  unhesitatingly  make  the  choice  he  had  been 
so  earnestly  prescribing  to  Merland  1  The  talk  with  Merland 
had  stirred  old  emotions  that  had  long  been  under  repression ; 


AN    EXCITING    NIGHT.  121 

and  the  sight  of  Merland's  inability  to  feel  the  exhilaration  of 
the  vision  he  had  been  favoured  with,  in  presence  of  his  over- 
mastering passion,  set  him  wondering  how  far  he  himself  would 
be  steadfast  in  adhering  to  the  path  in  life  he  had  resolved  to 
tread,  if  he  should  again  be  put  in  the  way  of  a  similar  tempta- 
tion. Was  human  nature  so  weak  that  the  prospect  of  rising 
above  the  limitations  of  its  normal  existence,  and  of  anticipating 
by  ages  the  slow  advancement  to  a  higher  sort  of  life — which 
he  had  recently  learned  to  recognize  as  the  natural  process  of 
human  evolution,  was  only  attractive  as  a  pis  aller  for  men  who 
failed  to  accomplish  the  usual  destiny  of  their  kind,  and  to 
make  brief  heavens  on  earth  for  themselves,  suited  to  the 
transitory  lives  they  spent  there  1  He  got  so  indignant  with 
himself  on  the  strength  of  the  suspicions  he  directed  against 
the  trustworthiness  of  his  own  resolution,  that  he  envied  Merland 
the  opportunity  he  had  acquired  of  making  a  sensational  renun- 
ciation of  woman's  love,  with  the  cup  almost  at  his  lips,  in 
favour  of  a  systematic  pursuit  of  spiritual  development. 

The  resolution  to  merge  all  other  aspirations  in  an  effort  to 
penetrate  occult  mysteries  had  grown  up  in  Annerly's  mind  by 
degrees,  but  had  not  been  set  forth  at  any  stage  of  its  growth 
in  formal  or  explicit  language.  It  occurred  to  him  now  that  the 
Baron  had  never,  during  any  of  their  conversations,  suggested 
or  recommended  the  adoption  of  any  such  formal  resolution  on 
his  part,  but  that  it  might  be  a  good  thing  to  cross  a  Rubicon 
in  the  matter,  as  it  were,  even  though  the  boundary  between 
the  old  life  and  the  new,  should  only  be  drawn  in  his  own 
imagination,  and  the  pledge  he  would  take  only  be  guarded  by 
his  own  inner  consciousness.  The  notion  that  Merland  would 
now  be  drawn  back  into  the  routine  of  a  commonplace  existence 
by  the  Circean  charms  of  a  girl,  made  him  angry  and  indignant 
the  more  he  brooded  over  it.  The  incident  should,  at  all  events, 
be  a  warning  to  himself.  He  would  then  and  there  put  up 
between  himself  and  the  possibility  of  any  similar  weakness  so 
much  of  a  barrier  as  a  resolution  or  vow  very  formally  recorded 
could  establish. 

He  sat  down  to  his  writing-table,  to  put  his  mental  deter- 
Qiination  very  definitely  on  paper. 

"Come  up-stairs." 

"  WLat]" 

He  spoke  the  last  word  aloud,  bo  startldd  w«e  he  by — not  th« 


122  KABMA. 

sound  of  the  others,  for  he  was  alone  in  his  room  ;  and  In  utter- 
ing his  own  word  "  what  "  he  realized,  by  the  dillerence  of  its 
effect  upon  his  ear,  that  the  other  words  had  not  been  uttered 
aloud.  But  where  had  he  got  them  from  1  They  came  across 
the  field  of  his  imagination,  engaged  with  the  thoughts  just 
described,  with  an  intensity  that  made  them  feel  quite  unlike  a 
thought  of  his  own.  What  did  the  impression  mean  1  Was  it 
really  from  an  external  source — itself  a  manifestation  of  the 
strange  powers  in  the  midst  of  which  they  were  all  living  at 
Heiligenfels  1  Upstairs  could  only  mean  the  Baron's  rooms  in 
the  turret  above.  Had  the  Baron  been  calling  him  by  some 
occult  agency  'i  The  experience  had  not  come  to  him  before. 
The  inclination  to  go  up  and  see,  began  to  assert  itself  very 
strongly — and  yet,  how  absurd  and  unruly  of  him  to  disturb 
the  Baron  if  there  should  turn  out  to  be  no  ground  for  the  im- 
pression he  had  felt.  The  Baron  had  left  the  drawing-room 
very  early  that  evening,  and  had  not  been  seen  again.  He 
might  have  been  tired,  and  have  gone  to  bed  hours  ago. 
Annerly  almost  vanquished  his  inclination  to  explore  the 
mystery  under  the  influence  of  common-sense  and  reluctance  to 
make  a  fool  of  himself ;  but  then  came  the  reflection  that  he 
might  after  all  be  making  a  greater  fool  of  himself  if  he 
neglected  a  summons  of  an  abnoiruil  kind,  behind  which  there 
possibly  lay  revelations  of  interest.  He  wavered  for  some 
minutes  and  then  felt  that  at  all  risks  he  must  ascertain 
whether  the  call  he  had  heard  had  been  an  empty  fancy  or 
reality. 

It  was  past  one  o'clock,  and  he  looked  about  as  he  came  out 
into  the  corridor,  shading  a  candle  with  his  hand,  vaguely  won- 
dering if  any  strange  phantoms  wandering  about  the  castle  at 
that  hour  might  be  found  to  have  something  to  do  with  the 
impulse  that  drew  him  out  of  his  room. 

Everything  was  quiet,  and  the  turret-stairs  quite  dark.  He 
went  slowly  up,  looking  cautiously  about,  and  came  to  the 
narrow  landing  at  the  top.  There  was  only  one  door  here,  that 
of  the  outer  room  of  the  two  the  Baron  occupied,  and  this  was 
shut.  He  could  see  no  light  beneath  it  and  hear  no  sound. 
Was  he  making  a  fool  of  himself  1  and  ought  he  not  to  go  back  1 
To  knock  and  disturb  his  host  at  that  time  of  night,  all  for 
nothing  but  to  ofter  a  ridiculous  explanation,  would  be  a  course 
of  action  he  would  feel  ashamed  of,  and  he  waited,  listening 


AN   BXOITING   NIGHT.  123 

Bttfutively.     No  sound  from  within.     He  still  wavered  as  to 

whether  he  should  not  go  quietly  back  again  ;  but,  following 
finally  to  the  end  the  impulse  that  had  made  him  come,  he 
knocked  with  his  knuckles  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  Baron,  in  the  most  natural  and  matter- 
of-course  tone,  and  Annerly  opened  the  door.  Stepping  on  to 
the  threshold  with  an  excited,  ghost-hunting  expression  on  his 
face,  and  holding  his  candle  at  some  distance  in  front  of  him, 
he  found  his  host  standing  with  his  back  to  the  writing-table, 
leaning  against  its  edge,  wearing  a  loose,  brown  velvet  jacket, 
that  he  had  substituted  for  his  evening  coat,  but  otherwise  still 
dressed  as  he  had  been  downstairs.  A  shaded  lamp  on  the 
table  and  a  good  deal  of  written  paper  showed  how  he  had  been 
spending  his  evening,  but  at  the  moment  Annerly  entered  he 
was  doing  nothing,  facing  the  door  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
His  first  words  relieved  Annerly  from  the  necessity  of  giving 
awkward  explanations  of  his  appearance. 

"  Well  done,  my  friend  !  Common  sense  is  a  splendid  thing 
— in  its  place — but  sometimes  confidence  in  intuition  is  better." 

"  Then  it  was  you  who  called  to  me  1     But  how  did  you  do  it  1" 

The  Baron  smiled  pleasantly. 

"  Anyhow,  I  don't  seem  surprised  to  see  you,  do  1 1  And, 
since  you  are  here,  I  have  the  opportunity  of  saying  some  things 
which  it  just  occuned  to  me  I  should  like  to  say  to  you." 

Annerly  had  come  in  and  closed  the  door,  and  put  down  his 
candle. 

"  My  acts  to-morrow,"  the  Baron  went  on,  **  are  likely  to 
seem  to  you  somewhat  at  variance  with  language  I  have  used 
in  talking  with  you." 

"  In  that  case,"  replied  Annerly,  "  I  should  trust  the  language 
you  have  used  to  me,  and  leave  the  acts  to  interpret  themselves 
later." 

"  Thanks !  You  would  be  right  to  do  so.  But  I  distrust 
your  confidence  so  little  that  I  do  not  care  to  test  it.  I  must, 
for  motives  which  seem  adequate  on  the  whole,  do  what  is  one 
of  the  most  disagreeable  things  a  true  student  of  occult  science 
can  have  to  do — make  an  exhibition  of  occult  power  to  impress 
the  imagination  of  people  who  are  not  pursuing  occult  develop- 
ment with  the  highest  spiritual  ends  in  view.  But  it  is  my 
conviction  that  the  good  to  be  derived  from  the  departure  from 
our  usual  rule  will  outweigh  the  advantages.     What  I  do  will 


124  KABMA. 

not  militate  against  the  appeal  I  have  made  to  you  to  keep  your 
attention  fixed  upon  the  advancement  of  your  own  spiritual 
evolution,  in  all  pursuit  of  occult  science,  in  preference  to  dwell- 
ing on  the  fascinations  attaching  to  the  exercise  of  any  abnormal 
powers." 

Annerly  assured  the  Baron  that  his  aspirations  were  altogether 
in  the  direction  of  knowledge  and  interior  enlightenment,  in  pre- 
ference to  the  manifestation  of  strange  forces  on  the  physical 
plane  of  nature.  They  had  some  further  conversation  on  these 
points,  and  then  the  Baron  said, — 

"  Well,  I  will  not  detain  you  any  longer ;  I  would  only  say 
this  one  thing  more :  Don't,  at  present,  fetter  your  own  action 
hy  any  vows,  even  in  the  privacy  of  your  own  chamber.  Vows 
are  but  artificial  props  for  a  weak  resolution,  and,  if  that  is  not 
strong  enough  to  carry  a  man  all  through  the  difficulties  he  may 
have  to  face  in  connection  with  occult  study,  it  may  sometimes 
be  better  it  should  give  way  in  the  beginning  rather  than  in  the 
end.  Besides,"  he  added,  in  a  lighter  tone,  "  it's  theatrical ;  and, 
as  I'm  going  to  be  horribly  theatrical  myself  to-morrow,  I  am 
naturally  sensitive  about  that  failing  in  others." 

The  practical  assurance  which  these  words  gave  Annerly,  that 
the  Baron  must  have  been  actually  aware  of  the  intention  he 
had  formed  shortly  before  in  the  room  below,  was  the  most  im- 
pressive evidence  he  had  yet  received  of  his  extraordinary  psychic 
gifts. 

"  Of  course  I  will  follow  your  advice,"  Annerly  replied ;  "  bnt 
that  strikes  me  as  a  more  wonderful  example  of  clairvoyant  per- 
ception than  any  I  have  ever  heard  of." 

"  For  most  men,  so  far,  the  imprisonment  in  flesh  is  so  close 
still,  that  they  forget  how  much  more  *  natural '  it  is  really  in 
one  sense  of  the  term,  to  be  free  of  that  confinement.  Our 
thoughts  are  less  our  own  exclusive  property  than  is  often 
vainly  supposed,  and  those  which  are  on  the  plane  of  another 
man's  sympathies  may  readily  become  perceptible  to  that  other 
— sometimes.  Happily,  in  most  cases,  natural  conditions  sift 
the  thought  which  ought  to  have  liberty  of  passage  to  some 
other  person  from  those  which  he  has  no  business  to  concern 
himself  with.  True  psychic  clairvoyance  is  not  so  indiscreet  as 
people  failing  to  appreciate  its  laws  correctly  might  imagine." 

''And  would  it  be  possible  to  give  me  any  clue  to  a  compre- 
hension of  those  laws  ? " 


AN   EXCITING   NIGHT.  126 

"  Hardly,  indeed ;  for  all  psychic  faculties  are  rather  states 
of  heing  than  acquired  arts.  The  longer  you  remain  in  your 
present  attitude  of  mind  ahout  these  things  the  more  you  will 
pass  into  those  states  of  being  which  involve  the  comprehension 
of  these  faculties  and  their  exercise.  The  honest  truth  is  that 
nobody  can,  so  to  speak,  explain  them  in  terms  of  the  intellect, 
because  they  have  not  got  to  do  with  the  intellect ;  and  that  is 
why  modern  culture,  which  is  altogether  on  the  intellectual 
plane,  is  so  offended  with  psychic  faculties  and  won't  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  them.  However,  I  do  think  myself  it  is  time 
their  existence  was  recognised  even  on  the  intellectual  plane, 
and  my  little  efforts  with  some  of  our  friends  below,  are  experi- 
ments to  see  how  far  that  recognition  can  be  secured  even  though 
It  may  still  be  impossible  to  teach  people  to  accomplish  psychic 
results  with  physical  faculties." 

"  I'm  profoundly  indebted  to  you,"  Annerly  said,  "  for  the 
help  and  guidance  you  are  giving  me." 

"  We  are  all  in  debt  to  one  another  in  a  tangled  sort  of  way," 
said  the  Baron,  "which  will  grow  clearer  to  us  as  we  get  on." 

"  Meanwhile,"  said  Annerly,  "  those  of  us  in  the  rear  are 
naturally  impatient  to  get  on." 

"  You  can't  hurry  a  natural  process.  I  have  given  you  some 
hints  already  about  the  pure  and  simple  life  which  an  occult 
student  must  lead.  Watch  and  wait.  There  is  nothing  more 
to  be  said  at  present ;  or  if  I  said  anything  more  to  you  just  at 
this  crisis  it  would  be  negative  rather  than  positive.  Perhaps 
the  less  interest  you  take  in  the  theatrical  or  sensational  aspects 
of  occult  powers  the  better — I  am  told  that  people  who  mean 
to  be  great  singers  do  more  good  by  practising  scales  at  home 
than  by  going  to  the  opera  to  hear  other  singers.  But  that  is 
a  suggestion  of  no  great  consequence." 

"  Good-night,  then,"  Annerly  said,  as  the  time  for  him  to 
withdraw  had  evidently  come ;  "  I  shall  certainly  try  to  follow 
all  your  suggestions — the  least  as  well  as  the  greatest." 

"  Good-night  and  pleasant  dreams." 

Annerly  returned  to  his  room  with  emotions  a  good  deal  ex- 
alted by  the  incidents  of  the  night,  and  as  he  moved  about  the 
room  getting  ready  for  bed  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  paper  he  had 
set  before  him  on  the  writing-table  when  he  had  been  about  to 
record  his  resolutions.  The  words  "  I  hereby  "  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  paper  which  he  had  left  blank  in  other  respects 


126  JLABMk, 

when  h©  went  upstairs.  Following  these  two  words,  three 
others  now  stood  written,  as  if  in  blue  pencil,  and  in  the  Baron's 
hand  ; — the  words  "  Watch  and  wait." 

Here  was  one  more  marvel  to  crown  the  experience  he  had 
just  received  of  the  Baron's  clairvoyant  insight  into  the  work- 
ing of  his  own  mind.  How  had  these  words  been  inscribed  on 
the  paper  1  Who  could  have  entered  the  room  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  to  write  them  ?  The  question  only  crossed  his  mind 
to  be  dismissed  with  ignominy.  "  It  is  what  any  stranger 
would  ask,"  he  thought  to  himself ;  "  and  how  low-minded  and 
stupid  the  hypothesis  seems  by  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of 
Lim  I  possess  already." 

Underneath  the  blue-pencil  words  Annerly  himself  wrote, 
"  So  be  it,"  and  the  date,  and  then  folding  up  the  paper  put 
it  carefully  away. 


CHAPTER  XVL 

00C3ULT   POWER  IN    EXOELSUL 

It  waa  settled  in  the  course  of  the  following  morning,  that 
the  whole  party  should  go  out  into  the  woods  together,  under 
the  leadership,  in  the  beginning,  of  Professor  Massilton ;  that 
they  should  ultimately  stop  at  a  place  to  be  indicated  by  some 
one  else,  and  that  the  character  of  the  manifestations  of  occult 
power  the  Baron  should  be  invited  to  concede  should  then  be 
determined. 

The  general  programme  of  the  day  had  been  the  subject  of 
careful  thought  and  discussion  between  the  Professor  and  Blane. 
They  endeavoured  to  forecast  all  the  objections  that  might 
ultimately  be  raised  by  critics  who  might  distrust  their  narra- 
tion of  what  might  occur,  and  it  appeared  best  that  the  scene 
of  the  experiment  should  be  selected  in  such  a  way,  that 
several  persons  should  have  a  voice  in  the  matter,  obliterating, 
as  far  as  might  be  possible,  the  chance  that  any  one  could  after- 
wards raise  a  doubt  whether  the  proceedings,  whatever  they 
might  be,  had  been  the  subject  of  prearrangement. 

"  It  i«  not  what  I  would  have  liked,"  the  Professor  had  said 


OOOULT   POWEB   IN   EX0EL8I8.  12? 

to  Blane.  **  It's  not  a  scientific  method  of  deaKng  with  a  new 
discovery,  but  we  must  make  the  best  of  the  opportunities  we 
have.  I  would  rather  be  able  to  show  the  smallest  manifesta- 
tion of  psychic  force  under  control  of  one  amongst  us,  who 
would  put  it  completely  at  the  senrice  of  science,  than  merely 
report  having  seen  the  most  stupendous  manifestation.  But, 
even  as  it  is,  our  report  cannot  be  pooh-poohed ;  and  it  must 
have  a  great  effect  upon  thought  if  not  upon  knowledge." 

Blane,  as  usual,  took  rather  a  gloomier  view. 

"  It  is  a  very  difficult  thing,"  he  urged,  "  to  get  thought  out 
of  its  usual  grooves ;"  but  he  was  none  the  less  keen  upon 
making  the  most  of  the  present  opportunity. 

The  departure  of  the  Vaughans  had  reduced  the  party  at  the 
castle  to  eleven  in  number,  but,  counting  his  flock  as  they  were 
getting  ready  to  start.  Professor  Massilton  could  only  make  out 
nine — "  The  Baron,  the  Millers,  three ;  Hexton,  Blane,  Merland, 
six  ;  Miss  Blane,  seven ;  my  wife,  eight ;  Reginald,  nine  ;  Mrs. 
Lakesby,  ten.  "Who  is  it  missing  ?  Why  it's  Annerly.  Mer- 
land, my  good  fellow,  go  and  call  your  friend.  Tell  him  we're 
all  starting." 

"  Good  gracious ! "  said  Lady  Emily,  in  alarm. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  said  Mrs.  Miller. 

"  Why,  don't  you  see  1  I  never  noticed  it  before.  Mr. 
Annerly  would  make  eleven,  and  the  Vaughans  two  more.  We 
were  thirteen  at  dinner  the  night  before  last." 

"  Oh,  Jem  1 "  said  Mrs.  Miller  to  her  husband,  who  was  stand- 
ing near,  "  how  thoughtless  of  you  not  to  have  noticed  that. 
You  might  have  dined  out  somewhere.  I  don't  mind  myself, 
but  some  people  are  so  nervous." 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  be  heroic  about  sitting  down  thirteen," 
Lady  Emily  confessed. 

The  mischief  had  been  done,  however,  and  there  was  no  help 
for  it  now,  though  poor  Mrs.  Miller  felt  acutely  that  a  stain  had 
fallen  on  her  character  as  hostess.  She  walked  on,  in  company 
with  Sir  John  Hexton,  who  comforted  her  with  the  assurance 
that  since  the  Vaughans  had  gone  the  thing  need  not  happen 
again. 

**  It*8  a  stupid  thing  to  mind,  of  course,  but  when  a  disagree- 
able idea  of  that  sort  is  started  people  do  mind.  That's  the 
worst  of  all  the  superstitions  you're  so  fond  of,  Mis.  Miller  ; 
you  set  people  off  their  balance.* 


128  KARMA. 

Mrs.  Miller  had  the  courage  of  her  opinions  at  all  times  and 
seasons,  and  the  unlucky  number  was  presently  forgotten  in  the 
renewal  of  some  oft-fought  questions. 

Some  of  the  party  moved  on  ahead,  and  the  Professor, 
though  rather  impatient  at  having  to  go  on  without  being  sure 
that  all  his  witnesses  were  present,  was  obliged  to  move  forward 
to  the  head  of  the  procession,  lest  there  should  be  any  straggling 
in  a  wrong  direction. 

"  Do  let  everybody  understand  they  have  simply  got  to  follow 
my  lead,"  he  explained. 

"  I'll  wait  for  the  others,"  Mrs.  Lakesby  promised,  "  and 
bring  them  on." 

But  Merland  presently  returned,  saying  that  Annerly  did  not 
mean  to  come.  He  had  some  writing  to  do  that  he  could  not 
put  off. 

**The  Professor  was  so  set  upon  everybody  being  present 
that  he  won't  be  pleased,"  Mrs.  Lakesby  remarked;  "never 
mind  :  you  and  I  will  walk  on,  Mr.  Merland.  It's  a  pity  your 
friend  should  miss  the  performances." 

"  That's  just  what  he  doesn't  think.  I  hadn*t  time  to  have 
the  thing  out  with  him ;  but  he  wouldn't  come,  I  think,  just 
because  there  is  going  to  be  some  sort  of  performance.  He 
takes  a  very  exalted  view  of  occult  science — I  daresay  he's 
right.     I  don't  feel  bent  upon  going  myself." 

"You're  not  feeling  well,  or  you're  out  of  spirits  about  some- 
thing ;  but  I  don't  feel  anxious  about  you,  you've  got  such  a 
bright  future." 

"  Me  ?  '*  said  Merland,  with  a  slightly  scornful  emphasis. 

"  I  often  feel  about  people  whether  there's  a  cloud  over  their 
future  or  whether  it*8  all  bright,  and  I  don't  see  any  clouds  on 
your  patL" 

"  Then,  Mrs.  Lakesby,  though  no  one  admires  your  wonderful 
gifts  more  than  I  do,  I'm  afraid  even  you  may  sometimes  make 
a  mistake." 

**  Goodness  I  I  make  hundreds,  I  daresay,  and  I'm  sure  I 
never  recommend  anybody  to  trust  what  I  say — but  you  re- 
member what  I  tell  you  all  the  same.  Now  your  friend  Mr. 
Annerly  gives  me  the  impression  of  being  a  man  with  a  good 
many  clouds  about  his  path.  But  he's  very  interesting.  I 
like  him  immensely.  You've  known  him  very  intimately  for  a 
long  time,  haven't  you  t " 


OOOULT  POWBB  IN   EX0ELSI8.  129 

•*  Ever  since  I  first  went  to  college,  and  you're  quite  right  to 
like  him.     He's  a  splendid  fellow  in  more  ways  than  one.'* 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby,  "  about  one  thing.  I've  got 
a  queer  fancy  sometimes  about  him  :  a  name  comes  into  my 
head  occasionally,  in  connection  with  him,  the  name  *  Miriam,* 
Is  there  anybody  of  that  name  belonging  to  him  ? " 

"  Yes  indeed,  Mrs.  Lakesby,  don't  mention  the  name  to  him. 
He's  so  nervous  about  that  matter  that  he  hates  to  have  it 
referred  to.     But  who  told  you  about  her  ? " 

**  Don't  I  say  it's  only  a  fancy  of  mine.  Nobody  told  me, 
but  I  think  of  the  name  when  I  see  him.  Who  was  she,  if  it 
isn't  a  secret  ^ " 

"  That's  curious.  I  see  what  you  mean  now.  I  fancied  you 
meant  you  had  heard  some  one  mention  the  name.  Miriam 
was  the  name  of  a  girl  he  fell  tremendously  in  love  with.  She 
threw  him  over,  and  he  was  awfully  cut  up  about  it." 

"  How  strange ! "  said  Mrs.  Lakesby.  **  However,  it's  no 
business  of  mine." 

Turned  upon  the  topic,  Merland  told  his  companion  what  he 
knew  of  the  story.  Soon  after  the  Professor,  who  had  halted 
the  head  of  his  column  at  an  open  space  a  little  distance  in  the 
wood,  came  back  to  hurry  up  his  rearguard. 

*•  It's  quite  the  most  exasperating  apathy  that  could  be 
imagined,"  he  declared,  when  he  heard  of  Annerly's  defection. 
"Incomprehensible  in  so  intelligent  a  man,  and  positively 
wrong  in  my  opinion  considering  the  interests  concerned." 

The  Professor  was  even  inclined  to  send  back  an  imperative 
and  urgent  summons  to  Annerly,  but  some  of  the  others  ob- 
jected, with  a  feeling  that  this  would  keep  them  aU  waiting. 

•*  There  are  a  lot  of  us  present  as  it  is,  Professor  Massilton,** 
Mrs.  Miller  urged.  "  Who  could  be  such  fools  as  to  suppose 
we  are  all  in  a  conspiracy  to  deceive  one  another  1  What  is  one 
person  more  or  less  ]     Let's  go  on." 

"  Let's  go  on  by  all  means,"  said  Sir  John.  "  No  doubt  it 
win  be  Mr.  Annerly's  loss."  Sir  John  spoke  cheerily,  intend- 
ing to  be  very  civil  to  the  programme  of  the  day,  but  as  often 
happened  he  was  unlucky  enough  not  to  suit  the  Professor's 
taste  exactly. 

**  If  a  juryman  is  absent  from  a  jury,  a  court  of  law  does  not 
content  itself  with  saying  it  is  the  juryman's  loss.  But  I 
suppose  there  is  no  help  for  it  now." 

K 


130  KAEMA. 

"  Then  let's  be  moving." 

"  Very  well ;  and  now,  Hexton,  will  you  be  good  enough  for 
a  while  to  take  the  lead  t " 

"Mel'' 

•*  You  !  '* 

"  But  I  don't  know  where  you  want  to  go." 

*'  That's  precisely  the  reason  why  I  ask  you  to  take  the  lead. 
I  want  to  get  to  some  place  quite  by  chance.  You'll  all  see 
why  in  the  end." 

On  these  conditions  the  pilgrims  resumed  their  journey,  with 
joking  and  laughter. 

"  There's  a  grievous  want  of  earnestness  about  some  of  our 
friends,  Baron,"  said  the  Professor;  "they  don't  understand 
what  we  are  really  about,  and  they  will  wonder  later  on  that 
they  could  have  treated  this  day's  work  with  any  sort  of 
levity. ' 

"  It's  the  spirit  of  the  age.  There's  a  ripple  of  laughter,  a 
fringe  of  froth,  round  the  edge  of  every  great  idea  amongst  us 
now,  as  there  must  be  round  every  sea  and  lake,  but  it  does 
not  affect  the  deep  water  in  the  middle,  though  it  hurts  some 
sensibilities.  In  former  times  men  explored  nature's  mysteries 
in  a  more  reverential  spirit,  and  that  will  come  again ;  but  for 
the  present  our  generation  has  forgotten  that  there  are  mysteries 
to  explore.  If  the  few  of  us  who  have  kept  touch  with  them 
were  too  timid,  now,  in  confronting  the  world's  frivolous 
laughter,  we  should  be  responsible  for  denying  it  the  oppor- 
tunity of  recovering  its  reverential  spirit.  I  mind  no  laughter 
in  these  matters  unless  it  is  poisoned  with  malice,  and,  when  it 
is  so  poisoned,  it  must  itself  take  so  terrible  a  spiritual  revenge 
on  its  authors  that  the  displeasure  one  may  be  tempted  to  feel 
ought  rather  to  be  pity." 

"That  is  hardly  a  practical  policy,  though.  Crime  of  all 
sorts  may  be  supposed  to  bring  remorse,  but  that  is  no  reason 
for  not  punishing  it.  Offensive  ridicule,  directed  against  first 
discoverers  of  unfamiliar  facts,  is  a  moral  crime,  retarding  the 
growth  of  knowledge  and  causing  undeserved  distress.  I  would 
always  make  its  authors  feel  the  weight  of  my  contempt  to  the 
uttermost." 

"  I  did  not  make  myself  quite  clear.  The  feeling  you  express 
is  most  natural  and  creditable,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  say  so, 
within  the  limits  of  your  purely  intellectual  observation  of  it. 


OOOUI/r   POWEE   IN    EXCBLSI8.  131 

But  there  is  another  point  of  view.  How  can  I  illustrate  my 
meaning  1  Suppose  you  see  a  man  fall  into  the  rapids  above 
Niagara,  through  quarrelling  with  a  companion,  and  stepping 
back  to  hit  him.  It  was  wrong  of  him  to  be  quarrelsome  ;  but 
you  don't  think  so  much  of  that  when  you  see  him  fall  into  the 
rapids,  and  when  you  know  what  they  lead  to.  Now  it  is  just 
that  way  with  the  spiritual  forces  a  man  sets  in  motion  against 
himself  by  putting  himself  in  the  wrong  current  of  nature.  If 
this  life  were  all,  then  indeed  there  would  be  no  Niagara  to 
dread ;  but  men  must  live  again,  whether  they  expect  to  or  not; 
mankind,  as  a  whole,  must  improve  spiritually ;  and  the  units 
who  oppose  themselves  to  that  improvement  will  have  a  terribly 
hard  time  of  it.  Here's  another  illustration.  A  man  travelling 
toith  the  windy  in  a  balloon,  may  not  be  conscious  of  any  incon- 
venience, no  matter  how  fast  he  is  going ;  but  let  him  throw 
out  an  anchor  and  try  to  resist  the  current.  The  way  he  will  be 
blown  about  may  tear  his  balloon  to  shreds.  This  all  has  to  do 
with  the  law  of  nature,  not  very  clearly  appreciated  anywhere 
in  the  world  at  large,  as  yet,  but  referred  to,  at  any  rate,  in  some 
Eastern  philosophies  as  Karma.  Every  man  is  the  product  of 
his  past  lives.  The  forces  set  in  operation  during  these  impel 
his  immortal  part  into  the  channels  of  evolution  in  which  he 
travels,  and  even  the  accident  of  birth  is  only  a  consequence  in 
disguise." 

The  Professor  considered  the  view  just  put  forward  to  be 
interesting  as  a  theory  of  ethics,  but  did  not  manifest  any 
wish  to  follow  it  up  at  the  time.  Presently  he  called  out  to 
Merland,  then  walking  a  little  in  advance,  and  the  young  man 
stopped. 

"Now  any  time  you  like,  within  the  next  two  or  three 
minutes,  will  you  call  a  halt  ^  Then,  considering  that  I  began 
to  direct  our  route,  and  that  Hexton  then  took  command,  and 
that  you  intervened  finally,  I  don't  see  how  anybody  can  wiselj 
say  we  have  come  to  a  particular  place  by  prearrangement.'* 

The  hill  sloped  away  rather  gently  from  Heiligenfels  in  th 
direction  they  had  been  taking,  and  several  paths  diverged  iu 
various  directions  through  the  woods  by  which  it  was  covered. 
In  this  way,  though  their  wanderings  had  been  irregular,  thej 
had  never  plunged  outright  into  the  thickets  ;  and  in  the  courso 
of  a  little  while  they  came  to  a  comparatively  open  space,  and 
here  Merland  proposed  to  stop. 

K  2 


132  KABMi.. 

"  I  don't  understand  what  sort  of  place  yon  want,  Professor. 

Willthisdor' 

"  My  good  fellow,  I  want  any  place  that  is  selected  hy  the 
operation  of  absolute  chance.  Of  course  this  will  do — one  place 
will  do  as  well  as  another.  Now,  I  will  explain  what  I  propose, 
which  is  this — "  (Everybody  had  now  assembled  within  hear- 
ing.)— "  We  here  to-day  ai*e  placed  in  a  very  important  position, 
and  in  a  very  unusual  position.  We  have  got  the  opportunity 
of  having  the  existence  of  certain  laws  of  Nature  not  yet  gene- 
rally understood,  plainly  proved  to  us.  I  know  of  my  own 
knowledge  already  that  Baron  Von  Mondstern  is  enabled  to 
emit  from  his  own  hand  a  certain  force  the  exact  nature  of 
which  I  do  not  understand,  but  the  effects  of  which,  I  know, 
may  be  very  considerable.  He  has  undertaken  to  show  us  that 
this  is  the  fact,  on  the  present  occasion,  because  it  is  necessary  that 
my  testimony  as  to  what  may  take  place,  should  be  supported 
by  that  of  several  other  persons,  in  order  to  command  general 
belief,  opposed,  as  it  will  probably  be,  to  general  experience." 

Mrs.  Lakesby,  speaking  in  a  low  tone  to  !Merland  while  the 
Professor  was  giving  this  explanation,  said, — 

'*  Do  you  see  those  two  men  dressed  in  white  under  the  big 
fir-tree  there  ? " 

"  No  ;  what  do  you  mean  t " 

**  They  look  to  me  so  natural,  I  thought  they  might  be  real 
flesh  and  blood — " 

"  Mrs.  Lakesby,"  said  the  Professor,  **  if  you  would  very 
kindly  give  me  your  attention  for  a  few  moments ;  we  are  about 
to  undertake  a  very  serious  responsibility,  and  do  let  us  all 
understand  what  we  are  about." 

Mrs.  Lakesby,  thus  called  to  order,  made  a  little  money  begged 
pardon,  and  assumed  a  demure  look  varied  with  occasional  side- 
long glances  at  Merland,  and  with  wandering  looks  about  her  at 
the  big  fir-tree  and  in  other  directions. 

"  I  will  now  ask  Mr.  Blane  to  select  any  one  of  the  trees  near 
which  we  are  standing.  We  have  been  brought  to  this  spot, 
you  will  observe,  without  any  intervention  on  his  part,  so  that, 
in  choosing  one  of  the  trees  within  our  present  neighbourhood, 
everybody  can  see  that  he  is  unable  to  choose  any  tree  that  can 
have  been  previously  thought  of  by  him,  or  any  one  else. 
Please,  Blane,  will  you  point  out  any  one  of  the  trees  we  aee 
from  where  we  are  standing." 


OCCULT   POWBB   IN  BXCBLSIS,  133 

Mr.  Blane  looked  round.  A  fir-tree — most  of  the  wood  was 
made  of  that  growth — about  thirty  feet  high,  a  moderate-sized 
tree,  but  standing  a  little  clear  of  its  neighbours,  very  straight 
and  erect,  was  pointed  out  by  Blane,  It  was  easily  identihed 
by  reference  to  a  large  moss-covered  stone  at  its  base. 

Mrs.  Lakesby  whispered  to  Merland — 

"  They've  gone  over  to  it.*' 

"Whol" 

"  The  two  men  in  white.     What  lovely  magnetism  I — ** 

**  What  do  you  mean  1 " 

**  Now,"  said  the  Professor  in  a  decided  voice  and  a  glance  at 
Mrs.  Lakesby,  which  was  sufficient  to  call  her  to  order,  "  we 
come  to  the  most  important  matter  of  alL" 

This  was  a  general  call  to  order,  as  there  had  been  some  stir 
among  the  whole  party  when  Blane  made  his  selection,  and 
some  joking  inquiry  whether  there  was  any  forbidden  fruit  on 
that  particular  fir  that  made  him  fancy  it. 

"  Please  let  us  all  be  serious  for  a  little  while.  Now  what  I 
venture  to  suggest,  Baron,  is,  that,  in  any  way  you  find  conve- 
nient or  think  fit,  the  force  which  you  control  may  be  directed 
by  you,  from  a  little  distance,  against  that  tree,  in  such  a  way  as 
to  produce  some  marked  result.  It  is  impossible  for  me,  in  the 
limited  state  of  my  knowledge  on  the  subject,  to  make  a  more 
definite  request ;  but  it  is  best  to  put  the  matter  in  that  way 
because  this  will  leave  you  complete  liberty  to  operate  in  any 
way  you  think  most  eff'ective." 

The  Baron  gravely  bowed  and  moved  a  little  away  from  the 
group,  though  remaining  at  about  the  same  radial  distance 
from  the  tree,  which  was  about  thirty  or  forty  feet  from  them 
all. 

Mrs.  Lakesby  again  spoke  in  a  low  tone  to  Merland, — 

"  They  are  coming  towards  here — the  two  men — now  they 
stand  on  each  side  of  him." 

For  the  rest  of  the  party,  however,  the  Baron  appeared  to  bo 
standing  quite  alone.  He  slowly  lifted  up  both  hands  above 
his  head,  and,  remaining  in  that  attitude  for  a  few  seconds, 
swept  them  forward  with  a  commanding  gesture  towards  the 
tree.  As  though  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  from  the  clear  blue 
sky  the  tree  bent  before  the  influence,  whatever  it  was,  that 
had  been  poured  out  against  it ;  and  then,  with  a  mighty  tearing 
crash,  broke  a  few  feet  above  the  roots,  and  fell  heavily  to  the 


134  EABMA. 

ground.  A  cry  of  surprise  and  excitement  broke  from  the 
assembled  spectators.  The  Professor  gazed  with  silent  intensity 
at  the  fallen  tree,  and  then  at  the  author  of  its  falL  Mra. 
Miller  frankly  screamed.  Lady  Emily  shrank,  with  a  sort  of 
terror,  from  the  front  of  the  group,  where  she  had  been  stand- 
ing, and  sat  down  trembling  on  a  stone.  Sir  John  emitted  an 
ejaculation  that  was  something  between  an  oath  and  a  pious 
appeal  Every  one  was  strongly,  and  most  of  them  visibly, 
ati'ected — Mrs.  Lakesby  least  of  all,  and  Merland  not  painfully 
at  all,  but  as  though  with  a  strange  tremor  of  exhilaration. 

The  Baron  did  not  immediately  return  to  his  guests.  He 
moved  again  a  little  further  away  from  them,  as  if  plunged  in 
thought. 

Except  for  a  few  disjointed  exclamations,  the  party  of  spec- 
tators remained  silent,  looking  at  one  another  and  at  the  Baron. 
Presently  he  turned  round  and  came  back  to  them  rather 
slowly,  with  the  usual  sweet  and  gentle  look  in  his  eyes,  but 
with  sadness  rather  than  triumph  in  the  general  expression  of 
his  face.  His  guests  received  liim  with  involuntary  marks  of 
respect,  the  Professor  gravely  bowing,  but  no  one  venturing  to 
be  the  first  to  speak.  The  incident  they  had  witnessed  had,  for 
the  moment,  paralyzed  their  thoughts.  The  Baron  spoke  first 
himself. 

"  I  have  broken  more  than  a  tree  for  you ;  I  have  broken  a 
rule — not  without  sanction,  it  is  true,  from  those  who  have  the 
right  to  control  me,  but  on  my  own  responsibility  none  the  less. 
Let  us  hope  that  the  good  results  to  be  gathered  from  my 
transgression  may  vindicate  it  at  last." 

"  My  expectations,"  said  the  Professor,  *•  are  so  much  more 
than  realized  that  I  am  mentally  overwhelmed  for  the  present^ 
I  do  not  shrink  from  confessing." 

"  Whatever  I  can  do,"  Blane  said,  "  towards  promoting  the 
good  results,  it  will  be  my  pride  and  pleasure  to  do ;  but,  be- 
yond that,  I  hope  you  will  dispose  of  my  services  always ;  and, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  in  any  way  you  think  fit." 

"  Shouldn't  we  all  hke,"  Captain  Miller  suggested,  **  to  keep 
some  mementoes  of  that  tree  ? " 

The  Professor  was  meekly  acquiescent  and  had  no  amendment 
to  make  to  the  proposal  this  time — nothing  better  to  suggest. 

"  Jem,  take  care  1 "  cried  Mrs.  Miller,  as  the  Captain  moyed 
over  towards  the  tree.     "  Baron,  is  it  safe  t " 


OOOULT   POWER   IN   EXCELSI8.  135 

The  question  relieved  the  tension  of  feeling  all  round  by 
exciting  some  laughter. 

'*  The  tree  may  be  safe,"  Lady  Emily  said  under  cover  of  this 
to  Sir  John,  *'  but  your  extraordinary  brother-in-law  may  not 
be  so  altogether.  I'm  not  sure  I  like  to  be  with  people  who 
can  hurl  thunderbolts  in  that  fashion." 

"I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  it,"  said  the  Baronet; 
"  his  poor  sister  was  an  ordinary  human  being.*' 

"I  shan't  sleep  at  night,"  said  Lady  Emily;  *'I  don't  like 
it.  I  must  get  away  from  here.  Where  does  that  sort  of  power 
come  from,  Sir  John?  I  do  not  profess  to  be  specially  a 
religious  woman — it  might  be  better  for  me  if  I  were  ;  but  at 
any  rate  I  don't  like  compacts  with —  Well,  you  know 
what  I  mean." 

"  By  George !  That's  a  startling  idea.  Do  you  think  it's 
thati     Ton  my  life,  it  looks  very  like  it." 

"  This  is  no  conjuring,  at  all  events,  and  I  don't  suppose 
any  one  would  want  to  make  us  believe  the  power  comes  from 
on  high." 

Sir  John  revolved  the  alarming  suggestion  in  his  mind,  and 
the  more  he  thought  of  it  the  more  glaring  appeared  the  evidence 
that  linked  the  achievement  just  witnessed  with  Satanic 
agency. 

There  was  some  dispersion  and  movement  of  the  group  now. 
Most  of  them  went  up  to  the  fallen  tree  to  tear  off  pieces  of  the 
wood  as  trophies.  Merland  remained  close  to  Mrs.  Lakesby, 
interested  in  what  she  had  said  about  the  figures  which  she  had 
clairvoyantly  seen,  and  asking  her  questions  about  them  from 
time  to  time.  They  had  disappeared  from  her  sight  shortly 
after.     But  now  she  said, — 

"  Oh !     Do  you  see  Keginald  1 " 

"  Yes.  What's  hs  doing  over  there  among  the  trees  by  him- 
self?" 

"  He's  not  by  himself.  He's  talking  to  one  of  the  men  who 
has  come  back.  Why,  he  can  see  him  then  He's  clair- 
voyant ! " 

"  That  throws  light  on  more  than  one  thing  about  him.  He 
has  not  been  brought  up  by  his  uncle  for  nothing." 

"  How  quiet  he's  been  about  it  !  He  does  not  chatter  and 
tell  everybody  what  he  sees,  like  me.  Well  done.  Master 
Reginald.     You've  read  me  a  lesson  without  knowing  it." 

10 


136  EARMA. 

**  But  Fm  sure  I  hope  you  won't  imitate  him  in  that  respect. 
Why  should  you  deny  your  friends  the  satisfaction  of  hearing 
about  what  you  see  1  It  would  be  a  sin  to  hide  such  talents  as 
yours  under  a  bushel,"  Merland  protested,  slightly  confusing  his 
biblical  allusions  in  the  general  disturbance  of  mind  from  which 
both  he  and  others  of  the  party  in  the  wood  were  suffering  in 
different  ways. 

**  The  Baron  does  not  talk  much  as  a  rule  about  what  he  can 
do,  does  he  ? " 

"  But  the  Baron  has  shown  us  to-day,  if  anybody  ever  did, 
that  such  powers  are  not  to  be  hidden," 

"  I  don't  understand  it,  I  confess.  I  don't  see  what  he 
means  by  it.     It  isn't  like  him  to  show  off  in  that  way." 

"We're  greatly  favoured." 

"  I  can't  particularly  see  why  you  should  be.** 

"  Don't  be  so  down  upon  us  as  all  that." 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be  rude— I'm  only  puzzled.** 

The  Baron  left  the  Professor  at  this  point  of  their  conver- 
sation and  came  up  to  them.  The  sense  of  awe  he  had  excited 
operated  on  their  demeanour  as  if  they  were  all  courtiers  and 
he  a  king  moving  amongst  them :  but  though  Mrs.  Lakesby  and 
Merland — Merland  especially — betrayed  a  reverential  feeling  in 
their  manner,  he  seemed  anxious  to  win  them  back  to  their 
more  usual  attitudes  of  mind. 

"  Which  do  you  think,  Merland,  is  the  finer  thing  to  do  :  to 
destroy  a  poor  innocent  tree,  or  to  waken  a  human  soul  to  a 
consciousness — if  only  for  a  short  time — of  its  higher  attri- 
butes?" 

Merland  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  without  realizing  the 
bearing  of  the  remark,  and  then  perceived  its  application  to  his 
own  experience  of  the  previous  day  with  a  sudden  rush  of 
emotion.  That  which  had  been  done  for  him  alone,  to  show 
him  the  path  in  life  he  ought  to  tread,  to  reconcile  him  as  it 
were  to  the  great  disappointment  he  had  been  subject  to  on  the 
plane,  so  to  speak,  of  his  worldly  aspirations,  had  perhaps  been 
a  greater  achievement  than  the  tremendous  display  of  that  after- 
noon. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  very  respectfully  ;  "  I  suppose 
I  am  too  strange  to  all  these  experiences  to  appreciate  them 
properly.  But  I  think  that  the  thing  I  have  seen  to-day  will 
only  make  me  appreciate  what  you  refer  to  the  more." 


A  PABTIAL  DISPERSION.  187 

"  Tell  me  who  they  were,  Baron,  do  ! "  said  Mrs.  Lakesby, 
leaving  the  remarks  just  made  unnoticed,  as  something  that 
evidently  did  not  concern  her. 

The  Baron  smiled,  not  pretending  to  misunderstand  the 
allusion. 

"  Your  eyes  are  sharp,  Mrs.  Lakesby,  and  what  they  show 
you  you  are  entitled  to  know,  but  more  than  that  it  may  be  that 
I  am  not  entitled  to  telL  Besides,  what  does  it  matter  1  You 
can  guess  of  whom  they  were  'i " 

**  I  wonder  whether  Reginald  would  tell  met" 

The  Baron  gently  shook  his  head. 

"  I  fear,"  he  said,  "  you  know  too  much  as  it  is.  But,  if  so, 
use  that  knowledge  discreetly  for  the  boy's  good — which  means, 
do  not  use  it  at  all." 

It  was  some  time  before  they  all  straggled  back  to  the  castle. 
It  was  in  Blane's  company  that  the  Baron  returned. 

"  Of  course,  I  need  not  tell  you,"  he  said,  **  that  the  power 
of  doing  mischief,  even  in  a  very  sensational  way,  is  not  the 
end  I  sought  in  devoting  my  life  to  occult  study,  nor  the  bait 
I  would  hold  out  to  others.  You  will  see  that,  but  for  many 
of  our  companions  in  this  generation,  you  can  only  get  a  hear- 
ing on  the  strength  of  credentials  they  understand  ;  and  it  is 
just  possible  that  the  sacrifice  of  our  tree  may  startle  some  people 
who  hear  of  it  into  realizing  that  there  is  more  in  their  own 
human  nature  to  respect  and  reverence  than  they  are  aware  of, 
and  so  lead  them  up  to  the  pursuit,  for  its  own  sake,  of  the 
spiritual  development  which  physical  evidence  even,  properly 
considered,  may  show  them  to  be  a  grave  reality. 


CHAPTER  XVIL 

A  PARTIAL  DISPERSIOB. 

The  Professor  had  no  opportunity  of  liberating  his  soul  in  regard 
to  Annerly's  heinous  conduct  in  stopping  away  from  the  per- 
formance of  the  afternoon,  till  they  were  all  assembling  for 
dinner.     As  he  came  into  the  drawing-room  he  found  Annerly 


138  KAKMA. 

and  Mrs.  Miller  there  before  him,  and,  as  he  was  speaking,  Sii 
John  Hexton  entered  the  room. 

"  There  you  are  at  last,  Annerly.  Well,  my  dear  fellow,  I 
should  be  more  indignant  at  you  for  depriving  us  of  your  com- 
pany this  afternoon  if  I  were  not  so  sorry  for  you  on  your  own 
account.  I  suppose  you  have  heard,  by  this  time,  what  you 
lost?" 

"  I  have  heard  what  took  place,  but — I — well,  I  thought  it 
best  to  stay  away,  though  I  daresay  you  may  think  it  very 
•trange  of  me." 

The  Professor's  curiosity  was  roused  by  Annerly's  hesitation. 

"  But  then,  had  you  any  sort  of  motive  for  not  going  with  us  t 
I  thought  it  was  merely  a  fit  of  apathy  on  your  part,  or  that 
you  felt  lazy,  and  disinclined  for  a  walk." 

"I  can  hardly  explain — I  had  some  views  on  the  subject 
which  you  might  not  concur  with  altogether.  I  should  be  the 
last  man  living  to  criticize  the  Baron's  acts,  but  experiments  of 
the  kind  you  had  to-day  are  not  what  interest  me  most — or, 
perhaps  I  should  say,  what  I  think  it  best  to  follow  up  most 
earnestly." 

Sir  John  Hexton  listened  intently.  He  did  not  quite  realize 
what  Annerly  meant,  but  he  put  a  construction  on  the  words 
uttered,  that  chimed  in  with  his  own  growing  opinions. 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  Mr.  Annerly.  I  was 
afraid  I  was  almost  singular  in  my  opinion  here,  but  I  don't 
know  that  I  approve  of  experiments  of  that  sort  either." 

"What  on  earth — "  The  Professor  looked  from  one  to 
another,  puzzled. 

Aimerly  did  not  stop  to  consider  exactly  what  the  Baronet 
meant.  He  was  only  vexed  with  himself  for  being  drawn  into 
half -explanations  that  could  not  but  be  misleading. 

"  Pray  don't  think  I  presume  to  disapprove  as  regards  others. 
I  do  not  disapprove  in  any  sense.  I  merely  meant  to  indicate 
a  purely  personal  disinclination  on  my  own  part  to  join  in 
experiments — " 

"  I  wish  I  had  had  your  foresight,  Mr.  Annerly,"  said  Sir 
John. 

The  entry  of  the  Baron  and  of  some  of  the  others  at  this 
point  turned  the  conversation,  and  soon  afterwards  dinner  was 
announced.  A  certain  air  of  constraint  hung  over  the  party, 
and  the  topic  of  the  day  was  hardly  touched  upon.     The  events 


A   PABTIAL   DISPERSION.  139 

of  the  afternoon,  in  fact,  had  left  very  different  impressions  on 
the  different  spectators.  The  feeling  of  disturbance  and  alarm 
which  Lady  Emily  Massilton  had  expressed  at  the  time, 
augmented  during  the  evening,  and  she  privately  informed  the 
Professor  that  she  was  not  inclined  to  prolong  her  stay  at  the 
castle. 

"  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  right  to  stay,"  she  declared. 

The  Professor  never  disguised  the  amusement  he  felt — at  all 
events  he  never  failed  to  exhibit  slight  symptoms  of  amusement 
— when  Lady  Emily  advanced  an  ethical  motive  for  any  of  her 
arrangements. 

"  That  of  course  settles  the  question,"  he  said.  "If  it  is  a 
point  of  conscience  with  you  there  is  no  more  to  be  said.  But, 
since  important  business  is  likely  to  keep  me  here  for  iome  time 
longer,  what  course  do  you  propose  to  take  ? " 

"  I  hadn't  thought  yet  because  I  did  not  know  you  were  so 
far  gone  as  all  that.  But,  even  if  I  am  forced  to  travel  alone 
through  your  absorption  in  these  more  than  questionable  affairs, 
I  would  rather  do  that  than  stay  on  here  now." 

"  Quite  so :  but  I  have  such  a  craving  always  to  understand 
definitely  what  people  mean.  When  you  speak  of  these  more 
than  questionable  affairs  I  am  in  the  dark,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  as 
to  what  you  intend  to  convey." 

"  You  may  affect  to  be  so,  but  I  cannot  think  a  man  of  your 
intelligence  can  be  so  really.  While  the  little  things  that  took 
place  here  were  such  as  one  could  suppose  either  conjuring  or 
mystification  of  some  kind,  it  was  not  necessary  to  take  a  serious 
view  of  them ;  but  after  to-day  the  case  is  different." 

"  Different  ?  Well,  to  be  accurate  the  experiment  of  to-day 
is  not  different  except  as  regards  scale  from  some  others  we 
have  had;  but  if  you  think  it  different  what  then?  What 
is  the  question  you  put  in  your  own  mind,  and  apparently 
answer  in  some  way,  when  you  say  the  affair  is  more  than 
questionable  1 " 

"  It  is  obvious,  though  you  choose  to  ignore  it.  The  thing 
done  to-day  was  no  trick,  it  was  miraculous,  and  the  power 
that  did  it  cannot   have  come  from  any  but  a  bad  source." 

"  The  Devil ! "  The  Professor  ejaculated  the  word,  not  in  its 
capacity  as  an  oath,  but  as  an  acknowledgment  that  he  had  at 
last  taken  Lady  Emily's  meaning.  His  amusement  was  no 
longer   feigned,  and — penetrated  with  a  sens©  of  comicality, 


140  KABMA. 

though  this  did  not  provoke  open  laughter  as  there  was  no  one 
by  to  appreciate  the  joke  with  him— he  sat  down  on  a  low 
chair  and  slightly  rocked  himself  to  and  fro  in  silent  ecstasy. 
The  conversation  was  going  on  in  Lady  Emily's  room  after  the 
general  dispersion  for  the  night  had  taken  place.  She  had 
requested  the  Professor  to  come  to  her  for  a  few  minutes,  as 
she  had  something  to  say  to  him. 

"  You  may  laugh,  but,  though  I  never  pretend  to  be  a  spe- 
cially religious  woman,  I  do  not  choose  to  follow  you  to  the 
opposite  extreme.  I  do  not  want  to  stop  here  any  longer 
under  the  circumstances,  and  I  wanted  to  know  first  of  all 
whether  you  would  leave  this  place  with  me,  as  we  came  here 
together." 

"  Certainly  I  will  not  leave  this  place  at  present.** 

"  Then  have  I  your  permission  to  telegraph  to  Brussels  and 
join  my  brother  George  there,  if  he  is  able  to  receive  mel** 

Lady  Emily  was  never  more  loftily  dignified  than  when  she 
formally  asked  the  Professor's  leave  for  any  such  withdrawal 
into  the  bosom  of  her  family  as  that  now  proposed.  The 
Professor  politely  intimated  his  concurrence,  and  rose  to  go. 
Lady  Emily,  however,  had  been  nettled  by  his  treatment  of  her 
theory  about  the  origin  of  the  occurrence  in  the  wood,  and 
could  not  refrain  from  a  parting  shot. 

"  You  will  not  find  I  am  the  only  person  here  to  take  the 
view  of  this  matter  that  I  do,  though  for  the  moment  you  are 
80  content  in  your  own  scorn  of  it.** 

''I  don't  think  scorn  is  the  word;  it  is  only  amusement. 
The  idea  is  very  amusing ;  but — er — is  our  party  here  to  sufi*er 
any  other  losses  that  you  know  of  on  the  strength  of  this  idea  ?  *' 

"  1  do  not  think  it  probable  that  Sir  John  Hexton  will  wish 
either  to  stay  here  any  longer  or  to  leave  hia  sou  any  longer  in 
Baron  von  Mondstern's  care." 

"  Ah !  **  The  Professor  paused  for  a  little,  but,  after  a  few 
moments'  reflection  took  his  leave,  without  asking  any  further 
questiona 

But  the  information  just  given  him  struck  him  as  highly 
important  He  had  not  been  paying  very  much  attention  to 
Reginald  Hexton,  but  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  as  something 
monstrous  that  the  boy's  fate  should  be  decided  by  an  exercise 
of  his  father's  authority  in  obedience  to  so  stupid  an  impulse  of 
feeling  as  that  which  Lady  Emily  had  b«tray6d.     H«  felt  sum 


A  PAETIAL  DISPEESION.  141 

that  the  Baron  would  not  want  the  boy  to  be  taken  from  him. 
He  conceived  the  notion  that  it  might  be  well  to  give  him  a 
warning  of  what  was  in  contemplation  without  loss  of  time. 
He  had  only  parted  from  the  Baron  ten  minutes  previously,  so 
he  thought  there  would  be  no  indiscretion  in  seeking  him  out. 
Perhaps  the  Professor,  whose  thirst  for  information  was  now 
raging  more  fiercely  than  ever,  was  unconsciously  moved  to 
some  extent  by  an  inclination  to  pay  the  Baron  a  nocturnal 
visit  in  his  own  room.  Mere  curiosity  would  not  have  justified 
this,  but  to  tell  him  about  Sir  John  Hexton's  Intention  would 
be  to  render  him  a  service. 

The  Professor  made  his  way  at  once  to  the  Baron's  study  in 
the  turret.  He  had  entered  the  room — the  Baron's  voice  having 
bidden  him  come  in — before  he  was  struck  by  the  notion  that 
offering  help,  as  it  were,  in  his  own  affairs  to  a  man  with  the 
Baron's  attributes,  might  be  rather  a  nonsensical  thing  to  do, 
from  one  point  of  view. 

"  I  am  not  used,"  he  said,  frankly,  "  to  thinking  myself  a 
fool,  but  it  just  occurs  to  me  that  I  may  have  come  on  a  fool's 
errand.  I  came,  at  any  rate,  with  the  intention  of  doing  yon 
a  service,  but  you  may  know  already  all  I  have  to  tell  you." 

**  Sit  down  and  receive  my  thanks  in  any  case.  What  was 
the  kind  intention  you  had  formed  about  me  ? " 

The  Professor  described  the  impression  which,  as  he  had 
gathered  from  his  wife,  was  Sir  John  Hexton's  idea  about  the 
alliance  which  enabled  the  Baron  to  perform  the  feat  they  had 
witnessed,  and  his  intention  in  reference  to  the  boy. 

"  I  feared  something  of  the  kind.     It  is  deeply  to  be  regretted." 

"  But  I  imagine  you  will  have  your  own  ways  and  means  of 
arranging  things  as  you  please— as  you  think  right.** 

The  Baron  sadly  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"  You  do  not  quite  realize  as  yet  the  way  certain  rules  govern 
the  exercise  of  occult  power.  It  would  be  quite  out  of  the 
question  to  talk  of  employing  any  unusual  measures  to  put  a 
constraint  upon  Sir  John  Hexton's  acts  in  this  matter." 

"  Doesn't  that  seem  rather  fanatical.  You  would  not  do  bim 
any  harm,  of  course ;  but  if,  as  I  can  fully  realize,  it  is  much 
better  for  the  boy  to  be  with  you  than  with  him,  why  not  oblige 
him  in  some  way  to  consent  i " 

**  There  is  nothing  more  impossible  for  me." 

*'  But  surely  pressure  of  some  kind  could  be  put-—* 

10 


142  KASMA. 

"With  an  ease  you  can  hardly  imagine.     Sir  John  could 

even  be  inspired  with  the  wish  to  leave  his  son  here,  and  would 
be  quite  unaware  of  the  fact  that  he  had  been  psychologized 
so  as  to  wish  this ;  but  to  produce  that  effect  on  him  would  be 
to  commit  a  disastrous  mistake,  to  do  a  very  wrong  thing.  I 
am  only  at  liberty  to  employ  ordinary  means  to  save  Reginald 
from  what  would  certainly  be  for  him  the  terrible  misfortune  of 
being  set  in  the  midst  of  the  corruption  of  a  great  English 
school." 

"  Well,  I  only  wish  I  could  psychologize  Sir  John  for  you. 
I'd  run  all  the  risks,  cheerfully." 

The  Baron  put  this  suggestion  gently  aside  with  a  smile  and 
a  movement  of  the  hand. 

"  But  you  can  very  likely  help  me  greatly  in  the  matter/* 
he  said,  "  by  using  your  natural  influence  with  Sir  John. 
Eeginald's  education  is  far  too  advanced  really  to  make  him 
suit  any  school  he  could  be  sent  to  ;  and  yet  it  may  not  have 
been  carried  on  along  the  usual  lines  in  a  way  that  would 
simply  enable  him  to  take  a  high  place  in  an  ordinary  school  at 
once.  Perliaps  you  could  ascertain  that  yourself,  by  conversa- 
tion with  the  boy,  by  sounding  his  knowledge  and  capacity  a 
little,  and  then  report  to  Sir  John  accordingly.*' 

"  All  right ;  but  it  does  seem  ignominious  to  try  and  accom- 
plish the  result  required  by  persuading  Hexton.  He's  not 
altogether  a  fool,  as  ordinary  people  go,  but  he  would  be  the 
hopeless  slave  of  a  prejudice  once  formed." 

"  It's  very  grievous,  indeed,  and  I  am  deeply  distressed  about 
it ;  but  we  must  do  the  best  we  can,  and  for  any  help  in  this 
matter  you  will  render  me  I  shall  be  deeply  obliged." 

"  It  does  seem  so  odd  to  hear  you  talk  in  that  way  when  you 
could^  no  doubt,  have  your  own  way  so  easily." 

"  We  can  talk  over  the  ethics  of  the  matter  more  at  leisure. 
But  about  practical  measures,  as  you  sometimes  say.  I  wonder 
whether  Annerly  might  not  be  able  to  get  us  out  of  this 
dilemma." 

"  I  can't  understand  Annerly,"  said  the  Professor ;  "  it  would 
be  too  absurd  to  suppose  him  affected  by  the  same  notion  that 
Sir  John  has  taken  up,  and  yet  some  words  of  a  vague  nature 
that  he  uttered  just  before  dinner  would  actually  seem  to  imply 
that" 

The  Baron  laughed. 


A   DEPRESSING   JOURNEY.  143 

"  You  are  quite  right  to  acquit  Annerly  of  thinking  me  in 
league  with  the  Devil.     But  what  was  said  ? " 

The  Professor  explained,  as  far  as  he  could,  and  the  odd  way 
in  which  the  Baronet  had  evidently  imagined  Annerly  to  be  on 
his  side. 

"That  innocent  misapprehension  of  his  may  render  us  a 
service.  Pray  do  not  disturb  it.  I  really  think  Annerly  may 
help  us,  and  I  will  ask  him." 


CHAPTER  XVnL 

▲  DEPRESSING  JOURNBT. 

Mrs.  Mtller  was  unable  to  make  out  what  possessed  all  the 
people — as  she  frankly  expressed  it — next  day.  She  sent  up  in 
the  morning  to  the  Baron,  asking  him  would  he  do  her  the 
favour  to  come  and  speak  with  her  a  few  minutes  in  the  octagon 
room,  if  he  was  not  too  busy,  and  then  she  declared  her  be- 
wilderment. 

"  What,  are  they  all  rushing  away  fort  Mrs.  Vaughan  sur- 
prised me  a  little  at  the  time  she  went,  it  seemed  so  strangely 
sudden ;  and  now  Lady  Emily  is  unable  to  stay  another  day, 
she  is  80  urgently  wanted  by  her  brother  in  the  Embassy  at 
Brussels ;  and  Sir  John  Hexton  has  urgent  affairs,  too,  which 
recall  him  to  Endand;  and  now,  to  my  amazement,  Mr. 
Annerly  has  just  been  to  say  he  must  be  going  too.  What  is 
the  matter  with  them  all  1 " 

**  You  may  be  quite  sure  of  this,  Mrs.  Miller,  that  they  are 
none  of  them  going  away  on  account  of  any  failure  on  your  part 
to  be  a  perfectly  gracious  and  agreeable  hostess.  Such  events 
as  we  had  yesterday  are  unsettling  to  people's  minds,  in 
different  ways.     I  am  not  surprised." 

"  But  Annerly  ?  It's  too  stupid,  really,  of  Sir  John ;  I  did 
think  he  would  be  more  teachable ;  but  still,  there  he  is,  you 
know.  If  he  thinks  you  have  sold  yourself  to  the  Devil, 
all  one  can  say  is,  he  has  been  bom  a  couple  of  hundred  years 
too  late.     I  suppose  that's  why  he  wants  to  be  o£^  and  Lady 


144  KABMA. 

Emily  too,  for  that  matter ;  but  Annerly  puzzles  me  altogether. 
Do  you  know,  Baron,  he  expressed  himself  so  oddly  last  evening, 
just  before  dinner,  that  if  I  did  not  know  him  so  well  I  should 
really  be  shaken  about  him.  What  do  you  think  f  He  can't 
have  got  any  absurd  notion  in  his  head,  can  he  1 " 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Miller,  do  not  be  uneasy  about  Annerly,  I  have 
seen  him  this  morning,  and  I  assure  you  his  devotion  to  the 
subjects  which  interest  us  is  quite  as  keen  as  ever.  The  coin- 
cidence may  seem  strange  to  you,  but  I  am  sure,  in  wishing  to 
leave  us  so  hurriedly  he  is  governed  by  motives  which  are  quite 
unlike  those  which  may  render  Lady  Emily  and  Sir  John 
Hexton  disinclined  to  stay.  In  all  probability  we  shall  see  him 
back  before  very  long,  for  the  rest  of  our  party  I  think  you  will 
find  very  faithful  to  us  for  some  time  to  come.  And  don't  you 
think,  though  we  shall  have  been  reduced  in  our  numbers,  we 
shall  still  be  a  very  pleasant  little  party  ? " 

"  But  do  you  know  about  Mr.  Annerly  taking  Reginald  away  t 
Is  that  by  your  leave  t " 

"  Yes ;  I  he?rd  of  the  arrangement  only  an  hour  ago ;  and, 
in  truth,  my  leave  is  not  required ;  for  Reginald,  having  rejoined 
his  father  here,  is  under  his  authority,  clearly.  But  I  don't  dis- 
approve of  the  plan  settled  upon.  An  ordinary  public  school  in 
England  would  be  a  place  lor  which  Reginald  is  quite  unfit ; 
but. Mr.  Annerly  will  be  able  to  put  him  in  the  care  of  a  private 
tutor  near  Cambridge,  where  he  wiU  escape  some  evils  that 
might  otherwise  befall  him.  I  would  rather  have  had  the  boy 
with  me  a  while  longer,  but  there  are  some  points  to  be  gained 
by  the  plan  now  fixed  upon  ; — at  any  rate,  it  is  an  acceptable 
compromise,  and  I  am  truly  glad  it  has  been  agreed  to  by  Sir 
John.     I  should  be  sorry  if  any  delay  endangered  it." 

Annerly  had  fallen  in  obediently  rather  than  cheerfully  with 
the  plan  in  which  he  had  been  required  to  play  a  part.  It  was 
a  wrench  for  him  to  leave  the  castle  just  then ;  it  was  with  an 
efi'ort  that  he  undertook  the  care  of  Reginald,  and  his  establish- 
ment at  a  private  tutor's.  He  had  seen  but  little  of  the  boy, 
and  was  not,  as  some  men  are,  naturally  prone  to  take  pleasure 
in  boys'  society.  Never  self-assertive  or  caring  to  take  a  lead 
among  people  he  was  with,  he  preferred  always  to  be  with  com- 
panions to  whom  he  could  somehow  look  up,  rather  than  with 
those  who  might  be  expected  to  look  up  to  him.  But  he  would 
have  done  anything  rather  than  make  diificulties  about  the  first 


A   DBPEESSING  JODENEY.  145 

request  put  to  him  by  the  Baron,  and  he  even  accomplished  the 
painfully- uncongenial  task  of  volunteering  to  advise  Sir  John 
about  the  education  of  his  own  son. 

To  his  great  surprise  he  found  this  advice,  which  he  would 
not  have  been  surprised  to  find  himself  snubbed  for  offering, 
very  quickly  assented  to.  Sir  John  had  a  certain  sense  of  duty 
to  his  son,  and  a  distinct  wish  to  withdraw  him  from  the  Baron's 
charge,  but  he  was  far  from  being  moved  by  a  personal  desire 
for  the  boy's  society.  It  would  have  been  a  disturbance  of 
sundry  plans  of  his  if  he  had  himself  been  obliged  to  take 
Reginald  back  to  England  and  see  about  putting  him  to  school. 
To  get  all  this  trouble  suddenly  lifted  off  his  shoulders,  in  a 
thoroughly  creditable  way,  and  extricate  the  1  ov  from  the  pos- 
sible uncanny  control  of  his  uncle,  without  too  seriously  offending 
that  too-powerful  uncle,  seemed,  to  him,  a  master-stroke  of  policy. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Annerly,  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you. 
You  can  arrange  this  matter  ten  times  better  than  I  could  my- 
self, and  it  will  save  me  a  lot  of  trouble.  There's  no  one  here 
but  yourself  I  should  have  felt  like  trusting  the  boy  to  just  now, 
but  with  you  the  case  is  different.  I  know  you  feel  as  I  do 
about  some  things.  I  don't  want  to  discuss  them  in  detail 
here,  and  it  is  quite  enough  that  we  understand  each  other." 

Annerly  was  in  the  dark  as  to  the  meaning  of  this,  but  it 
was  not  his  business  to  raise  difficulties  between  himself  and 
the  Baronet.  He  had  only  feared  that  it  would  be  impossible 
to  smooth  away  those  which  probably  existed.  According  to 
his  instructions  he  said  that  he  wished  to  start  for  England 
immediately,  and  the  hurry  of  his  departure  again  chimed  in 
with  Sir  John's  views.  In  this  way  he  would  be  enabled  to 
see  Lady  Emily  as  far  as  Brussels  without  infringing  the  conve- 
nances by  travelling  with  her  quite  alone.  She  meant  to  leave 
the  castle  that  day,  and  they  could  all  go  together. 

His  task  thus  proved  plain  sailing  for  Annerly ;  but  still  he 
did  not  like  it.  He  did  not  like  aristocratic  society,  orthodox 
society,  or  boys'  society ;  and  he  was  sent  away  with  all  those 
three  conditions  in  very  forcible  operation.  He  was  aspiring  to 
take  a  plunge  into  a  new  life,  of  an  exciting  and  mysterious 
sort ;  he  would  have  been  prepared  for  heroic  ordeals ;  he 
would  have  welcomed  privations,  or  perils  of  a  romantic  sort ; 
but  he  was  merely  called  upon  to  incur  some  familiar  disagree- 
ables, and  transact  a  tiresome  piece  of  business  in  every-day 

L 


146  KABMA. 

life.  Afl  a  gtruggling  young  man  with  a  first-rate  degree,  teach- 
ing, in  some  way,  would  have  been  his  natural  path  in  life 
on  leaving  the  university,  but  he  had  always  declared  he 
would  sweep  crossings  rather ;  and  he  had  forced  his  way,  with 
no  small  trouble  at  first,  through  the  outworks  of  professional 
journalism  into  a  position  of  reasonable  success  and  of  fair 
literary  credit.  Now  he  found  himself,  only  for  a  brief  space 
it  was  true,  but  still  for  a  moment,  caretaker  of  a  boy  and 
patronized  by  a  baronet.  There  was  something  chilling  in 
this  being  the  first  incident  of  his  apprenticeship  to  mystic 
study.  He  railed  at  himself  internally  for  the  ill-temper  he 
felt,  but  still  he  felt  ill-tempered. 

It  was  a  mercy  at  all  events,  he  reflected,  as  they  four — Sir 
John  and  Lady  Emily,  Reginald  and  himself — sat  in  the  railway- 
carriage,  on  their  way  to  Cologne,  that  he  had  not  been  invited 
to  take  charge  of  Reginald's  education  altogether.  He  felt  it 
his  duty  to  try  and  get  into  some  conversation  with  his  young 
charge  ;  but  the  boy  was  depressed  and  reserved ;  very  gentle 
and  polite,  but  as  awkward  at  making  conversation  on  his  sidG 
as  Annerly  himself,  and  the  effort  languished.  Lady  Emily 
and  Sir  John  were  in  fairly  good  spirits  in  the  opposite  corners. 

Lady  Emily  was  generally  exhilarated  for  a  time  on  parting 
company  with  the  Professor,  and  on  this  occasion  she  was  part- 
ing from  him  under  conditions  which  especially  suited  her.  She 
had  some  confidences,  moreover,  to  convey  to  her  companion, 
which  interested  them  both  very  deeply.  Annerly  made  no 
attempt  to  understand  what  they  were  talking  about ;  but  he 
would  have  been  quite  unable  to  make  out  even  if  he  had  tried, 
as  the  scattered  remarks  which  reached  him  referred  to  various 
letters  which  she  gave  Sir  John  to  read. 

"Isn't  that  enough  to  go  upon?"  she  asked  aloud,  after  some 
of  these  had  been  perused. 

"  It  ought  to  be  enough  ten  times  over,"  Sir  John  replied. 

But  this  meant  nothing  in  particular,  and  the  more  important 
part  of  the  conversation  was  carried  on  in  a  low  voice,  under 
cover  of  the  rattle  of  the  train.  Annerly,  however,  was  no 
more  desirous  than  able  to  hear  what  they  were  saying.  Only 
once  was  his  attention  involuntarily  arrested.  He  heard  or 
thought  he  heard  Sir  John  pronounce  the  name  "  Miriam  Sea- 
ford," — a  magic  sound  in  his  ears.  Had  it  perhaps  merely  been 
some  name,  something  like  that  which  excited  the  vibrations  of 


A   DEPRESSING   JOURNEY.  147 

his  own  memory  1  What  possible  connection  could  there  be 
between  her  and  the  conversation  of  two  such  people  as  Lady 
Emily  and  Sir  John  Hexton.  His  own  restless  imagination 
had  deceived  his  outer  senses,  he  told  himself ;  and  yet,  though 
the  name  had  never  grown  to  be  a  strange  sound  in  hLs  own 
inner  hearing,  the  pronunciation  of  it,  or  even  what  seemed  the 
pronunciation  of  it,  by  another  person,  jarred  some  fibres  of 
sentiment  not  yet,  it  would  seem,  quite  extinct.  Conversation 
of  a  sustained  kind  with  Reginald  proving  impracticable,  his 
thoughts  went  slipping  back  along  the  train  of  associations  thus 
aroused. 

It  is  unhealthy  work,  but  still  who  does  not  at  times  let  the 
creative  faculty  within  him  paint  fair  pictures  of  what  might 
have  been  1  Things  of  course  were  better  as  they  were.  For 
occult  study,  and  the  rapid  development  of  the  higher  spiritual 
faculties,  he  might  be  fitted — for  woman's  love  he  had  certainly 
not  been  destined  (though  Miss  Blane  had  been  good  enough  to 
try  and  make  him  think  otherwise).  Still  (to  while  away  the 
hours  on  this  tiresome  journey)  was  it  not  curious  to  think  how 
soon  the  lower  practical  difficulties,  that  seemed  to  make  the 
realization  of  his  love-dream  at  the  time  impossible,  would  have 
been  dissipated  had  she  put  her  hand  in  his  and  trusted  to  him 
altogether  1  She  had  not  been  fit  for  poverty — that  he  knew ; 
but  if  she  had  dared  it  for  his  sake  she  would  never,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  have  had  to  face  it.  And  she  would  have  dared  it  if 
she  had  not  been  tampered  with,  he  thought.  Pleasant  things 
said  in  long  past,  but  not  forgotten,  interviews  came  back  to  his 
memory.  It  was  in  no  way  her  fault.  The  only  thing  that  was 
not  bitter,  in  the  thought  of  aU  that  gone  by,  was  that  she  was 
never  to  blame ;  except  perhaps  for  a  certain  weakness.  Bah  ! 
why  think  of  it  at  all  1  But,  then,  why  not  t  Surely  the  un- 
happiness  that  had  come  to  him  out  of  that  whole  episode 
could  no  way  be  increased.  Why  cheat  himself  by  pretending 
to  think  that  he  could  shut  the  recollection  of  it  all  out  of  his 
thoughts '?  He  had  even  a  certain  measure  of  success  in  litera- 
ture and  the  world — hardly  trying  for  it,  hardly  caring  for  it — 
and  that  had  come  to  pass  in  about  four  years  only.  How 
would  four  years  have  affected  her  beauty  and  her  sweetness  ? 
She  would  be  just  the  same  now  that  he  had  known  her. 

He  did  not  dwell  much  on  the  fact  that  she  had  since  linked 
her  life  altogether  with  that  of  another  man.     That  merely  em- 

L  2 


148  KAEMA. 

phasized  a  condition  of  things  he  had  regarded  as  quite  final  in 
any  case.  The  man  was  a  mere  name  to  him,  and  hardly  that ; 
for  he  never  thought  of  the  name,  and  sometimes  went  near 
forgetting  it.  She  might  have  gone  to  another  planet  for  all 
the  tliought  he  had  of  ever  seeing  her  again.  But  what  a 
strangely  different  thing  life  would  have  been  if  that  had  been 
realized  that  was  only  dreamed  about !  He  could  remember  the 
short  time  in  his  life  when  he  had  been  happy.  \Miat  a  sin- 
gular sensation  that  had  been,  how  finally  and  entirely  oblite- 
rated from  existence  since  I  It  had  been  clearly  a  sort  of 
accident  which  had  led  him  astray  out  of  a  life  of  which  the 
destinies  for  some  unfathomable  reason  were  altogether  gloomy 
into  a  state  that  might  be  normal  to  other  men,  but  was  ruled 
off  from  the  possibilities  of  development  he  was  subject  to.  The 
wise  thing  to  do  was  not  to  expect  anything  resembling  happi- 
ness for  one  instant.  Different  people  had  difl'erent  aims  in 
life.  If  he  clearly  recognized  that  he  had  no  expectation  of 
happiness  that  would  perhaps  be  the  best  way  of  rendering 
unhappiness  best  bearable. 

So  occult  development  was  a  pis  alter  for  him  if  he  treated 
the  matter  honestly.  It  was  rather  contemptible  that  things 
should  be  so.  "Were  they  really  so  1  If  he  should  see  Miriam 
Seaford  waiting  for  him  at  the  next  station,  willing  and  able  to 
be  all  his  fancy  had  painted,  and  to  take  up  their  lives  where 
they  had  been  abruptly  severed,  would  he  deliberately  get  out 
and  join  her  and  send  back  word  to  the  Baron  that  he  had 
changed  his  mind  about  devoting  himself  to  occult  study? 
Perhaps  it  was  impossible  to  say  what  he  would  do  in  the 
absence  of  the  opportunity  of  really  making  a  choice.  Perhaps 
he  was  doing  himself  injustice.  Of  course  there  was  no  doubt 
about  the  superiority,  in  the  scale  of  Nature,  of  the  man  who 
devoted  himself  to  perfecting  his  spiritual  growth,  a  matter 
affecting  his  destinies  for  incalculable  aeons  to  come,  as  com- 
pared with  one  who  accepted  happiness  instead,  in  one  earth- 
life  for  a  score  or  two  of  years.  On  the  other  haild  might  there 
not  be  time  enough,  in  eternity,  for  spiritual  evolution,  even  if 
a  man  postponed  all  efforts  in  that  direction  for  the  present,  and 
floated  along  the  natural  current  of  evolution,  which  the  occult 
student  sought  so  marvellously  to  hasten  1  Well,  anyhow,  the 
time  had  gone  by  wlien  it  would  be  necessary  for  him  to  pray 
not  to  be  led  into  temptation. 


A   DBPEESSING   JOUBNET.  149 

They  got  to  Cologne  in  the  evening  and  dined  there  in  the 
refreshment-room,  and  then  distributed  themselves  in  appro- 
priate compartments  of  a  sleeping-car  for  the  night-journey  to 
Brussels.  Wrapped  in  his  own  thoughts,  which  cut  him  off 
entirely  from  all  real  companionship  with  his  fellow-travellers, 
Annerly  was  glad  to  be  rescued  by  the  conditions  of  the  night- 
journey  from  the  pretence  of  behaving,  sociably.  Of  course  he 
felt  a  deep  dejection  of  spirits  after  all  the  brooding  reflections 
of  the  afternoon ;  and  he  went  through  some  revulsion  of  feel- 
ing as  he  lay  down  in  his  berth  resenting  his  folly  in  cultivating 
unwholesome  fancies.  "What  a  crisis  that  day's  thinking,  how- 
ever, might  be  in  his  destiny,  if  the  abnormal  faculties  the 
Baron  exercised  and  amidst  which  he  lived, — for  he  had  often 
implied  that  other  unknown  superiors  exercised  such  faculties 
and  powers  unseen  in  a  far  greater  degree  than  he  himself, — 
what  a  grand  internal  cure  might  be  wrought  in  his,  Annerly's, 
nature,  if  something  exhilarating  and  inspiring,  helping  to 
confirm  and  strengthen  his  enthusiasm  for  the  occult  life,  could 
happen  to  him  that  night.  If  his  inner  spirit  could  be  released 
for  a  time  as  Merland's  had  been,  to  feel  the  glory  of  the 
superior  spiritual  existence  as  freed  from  the  trammels  that 
fettered  the  soul  in  its  physical  prison  !  In  his  room  the  night 
he  was  called  by  the  Barou  he  had  had  evidence  showing  him 
that  the  Baron  might  become  aware  of  writing  which  he  should 
produce  in  privacy.  Clairvoyant  perception  once  operating 
might  as  well  follow  him  in  the  flying  train  as  in  the  seclusion 
of  his  own  room  at  the  castle.  It  was  possible  that  he  could 
call  the  Baron's  attention  by  writing  something  then  and  there. 
He  fumbled  about  for  his  pocket-book  in  the  coat  hanging  up 
within  reach,  and,  tearing  off  the  blank  page  of  a  letter,  waited 
for  the  first  moment  of  steadiness  in  the  train  as  it  stopped  at  a 
station  to  write.  Then  he  put  down  a  few  words — an  appeal 
to  the  Baron  for  a  sign — and  put  the  paper  under  his  pillow. 

A  night  in  a  sleeping-car  is  seldom  spent  in  an  unbroken  span 
of  sleep.  Annerly  was  half-awake  and  half- asleep  the  greater 
part  of  the  night,  thinking  in  the  conscious  intervals  of  the 
paper  under  his  pillow  ;  alive  as  time  wore  on  to  the  fact  that 
nothing  special  had  occurred  to  him  subjectively,  but  refrain- 
ing from  the  examination  of  the  paper ;  that,  he  thought,  should 
at  any  rate  wait  for  the  morning.  It  was  at  a  very  early  hour 
in  the  morning  that  the  train  reached  Brussels  ;  and  among  his 


150  KAEMA. 

earliest  preparations  for  leaving  it  Annerly  took  out  his  expert- 
meutal  note,  glancing  eagerly  to  see  if  any  words  in  blue-pencil 
handwriting  had  appeared  across  it  this  time.  Not  a  word  or 
a  mark— the  paper  was  just  as  he  had  prepared  it.  With  a 
feeling  half  of  disappointment,  half  of  contempt,  for  his  own 
too  confident  hopefulness  of  the  previous  evening,  he  crumpled 
up  and  threw  the  note  out  of  the  window. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

AN   OLD   LOVB. 

It  would  have  heen  possible  for  those  of  the  travelling-party, 
bound  for  England,  to  have  gone  at  once  to  Calais,  but  Sir 
John  explained  that  he  would  take  this  opportunity  of  looking 
in  on  Lord  George  at  the  Embassy,  and  would  beg  Annerly,  if 
he  did  not  mind,  to  join  him  in  waiting  one  day  at  Brussels. 
There  was  a  lot  to  see  in  the  place,  he  said.  Annerly  had  never 
been  there,  and  would  enjoy  a  look  round  at  the  old  town  and 
the  picture-galleries.  He  would  see  Lady  Emily  to  her  destina- 
tion, and  join  Aimerly  and  Reginald  at  the  hotel  Annerly 
fell  in  with  the  arrangement  apathetically.  He  did  not  par- 
ticularly care  to  see  Brussels,  but  he  was  not  in  any  special 
hurry  to  ^et  on,  except  for  a  vague  desire  to  have  done  with  his 
present  task  as  soon  as  possible  ;  so  he  and  the  boy  went  to  the 
hotel  the  Baronet  directed  them  to  as  the  best,  and  the  other 
two  drove  to  the  Embassy.  It  was  still  so  early  that  Annerly, 
established  in  Lis  own  quarters,  having  seen  that  Reginald  was 
comfortably  provided  for,  lay  down  and  slept  for  awhile,  then 
made  a  deliberate  toilet  and  came  down  to  the  hall  of  the  hotel 
about  ten.  He  was  aware  of  a  strange  feeling  of  torpor  and 
apathy,  afterwards  he  conceived  that  his  sense  of  oppression 
might  have  been  a  kind  of  presentiment,  but  for  the  moment  he 
only  recognized  it  as  an  even  more  pronounced  indifference  to 
everything  than  was  usual  to  him,  though  that  sensation  was 
but  too  usnal.  In  the  hall  the  concierge  gave  him  a  note  that 
had  been  sent  by  Sir  John.     The  Baronet  explained  that  Lord 


AN    OLD   LOVa.  151 

George  had  put  him  up  at  the  Emhassy,  that  he  hoped  Annerly 
would  amuse  himself  the  best  way  he  could,  and  go  on  with 
Reginald  the  following  day  without  waiting  for  him.  He  might 
come  or  he  might  not. 

It  was  all  one  to  Annerly.  He  did  not  trouble  himself  to 
criticize  the  Baronet's  arrangements  by  a  passing  thought.  As 
a  matter  of  duty  he  went  for  a  walk  with  Reginald  along  the 
boulevard  after  they  had  had  breakfast,  and  then  to  the  pictures, 
at  which  he  gazed  phlegmatically.  In  the  afternoon  he  looked 
wearily  over  the  papers  in  the  hotel  reading-room,  undertook  in 
reply  to  inquiries  from  the  head- waiter  to  dine  at  the  table- 
d'hote,  and  then  took  refuge  in  his  room  again.  He  had  not 
often  spent  so  vapid  and  purposeless  a  day,  but  its  ennui  was  all 
in  the  task  he  had  accepted,  like  the  ennui  of  the  railway 
journey.  He  and  Reginald  rendezvoused  in  the  haU  at  the 
appointed  time,  or  a  few  mmutes  after,  for  he  was  a  little 
late  in  commencing  the  slight  change  of  dress  appropriate  to  a 
hotel  dinner,  and  they  went  together  into  the  salle-a-manger. 
The  waiters  motioned  them  to  the  two  seats  reserved  for  them 
at  one  of  the  long  tables,  the  other  seats  being  already  occupied 
on  both  sides.  His  face  was  turned  towards  Reginald,  on  his 
left,  as  they  sat  down;  to  take  an  interest  in  the  passing 
travellers,  who  might  be  his  fellow-guests  at  the  hotel,  was 
about  the  last  thought  that  would  have  occurred  to  him,  and  he 
had  looked  at  no  one  individually  as  they  had  walked  up  the 
room.  Lethargically,  as  he  unfolded  his  napkin,  he  turned 
towards  the  lady  on  his  right,  who  looked  half  round  at  him — 
she  had  recognized  him  ten  seconds  sooner  than  he  knew  who 
it  was  j  and  then,  dashed  against  his  consciousness  like  a  great 
wave  of  the  sea  against  a  rock,  came  the  perception  that  he  was 
sitting  next  to  Miriam  Seaford. 

There  was  nothing  said  for  some  little  while  by  either  of 
them.  The  lady  seemed  to  shrink  a  little  from  her  neighbour, 
and  the  expression  of  her  handsome  features  betrayed  a  shock 
of  feeling  on  her  part,  though  its  precise  nature  could  not  exactly 
be  read.  She  was  beautiful — not  in  the  brilliant  style  of  Miss 
Lucy  Vaughan ;  her  complexion  was  very  lightly  tinted,  but  its 
texture  very  delicate  and  smooth ;  her  hair  grew  rather  low  down 
on  her  forehead,  giving  a  Grecian,  Clytie-like  contour  to  the 
head  ;  and  the  light-brown  hair  rippled  away  on  either  side  and 
swept  round  to  the  back  in  some  fashion  of  'lei  own  that 
11 


152  EABMA. 

suited  her,  and  that  she  kept  to,  regardless  of  more  prevailing 
methods  of  arrangement  The  eyes  were  of  a  very  perfect 
violet ;  the  mouth  attractive  rather  by  reason  of  its  rich  expres- 
sive outline  than  praiseworthy  for  small  proportions  ;  and  the 
parted  lips,  as  Annerly  gazed  at  her,  drew  in  a  deep  breath 
which  made  her  broad  bosom  heave  perceptibly,  even  beneath 
the  high,  black  silk  dress  she  wore.  She  had  always  been  fond 
of  wearing  black,  against  which  the  delicate  tints  of  her  neck 
would  gleam  with  fascinating  lustre. 

Annerly  interpreted  her  look  as  one  in  which  displeasure 
predominated.  The  light  clatter  of  the  dinner-table  was  already 
established ;  he  spoke  to  her  in  a  low  voice,  under  cover  of 
this,  quite  unheard  by  the  others, — 

"  This  meeting  is  quite  accidental     Shall  I  leave  you  ? " 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  she  said,  stiffly. 

Was  she  with  her  husband?  Annerly  wondered  presently 
in  his  own  mind,  with  a  chilly  feeling  of  resentment  against 
the  unknown  man  asserting  itself  in  his  breast,  almost  for  the 
first  time.  He  looked  at  the  person  sitting  beyond  her.  It 
was  no  husband,  at  aU  events — a  lady — one  much  older  than 
herself,  slight,  dark,  pleasant-looking — quite  imconscious,  so 
far,  that  her  companion  had  found  an  old  acquaintance — en- 
gaged, then,  in  a  careful  study  of  the  menu^  propped  before  her 
against  a  wine-glass,  and  in  the  leisurely  consumption  of  her 
soup. 

A  busy  waiter  presented  Annerly  with  the  wine-card. 

"No,  thanks,"  he  said ;  "I  will  drink  water." 

The  lady  of  the  menu  looked  up  and  motioned  to  the  waiter 
for  the  card. 

"What  wine  will  you  have,  Mirry  darling?  You've  been 
tired  to-day — will  you  have  some — " 

"  No  thanks,'*  interposed  the  younger  lady,  hurriedly;  "none 
to-day." 

The  other  lady  seemed  distressed  and  urgent. 

"  Please,  dear  aunt,  I  would  rather  not." 

"  Aunt,"  she  had  said.  Ah  !  he  knew  of  an  aunt  there  had 
been — a  beie-noire  of  his  in  old  times.  All  her  relations  had 
been  hete-noirs  then — but  he  had  never  seen  her. 

The  storm  of  feeling  he  had  been  aflfected  by,  at  the  first 
instant  of  recognition,  was  subsiding  a  little  now.  He  began 
to  eat  the  soup  set  before  him,  and  to  try  and  think  collectedly 


AN    OLD   LOTB.  153 

what  was  the  right  and  best  course  to  pursue — whether  to  make 
some  excuse  to  Reginald,  get  up  quietly  and  go  away,  or  to 
try  and  enter  into  conversation  as  an  old  friend,  calmly  and 
courteously  ignoring  the  past.  He  felt  he  would  rather,  before 
leaving  her,  let  her  know  that  he  bore  her  no  malice  and  har- 
boured no  resentment  against  her.  Still,  it  was  difficult  to  say 
anything  which  should  disguise  the  deep  springs  of  infinite 
tenderness  for  her  that  welled  up  as  of  old  at  the  sight  of  her, 
and  flooded  his  whole  soul  as  he  sat  beside  her.  She  remained 
silent,  paler  than  before,  and  had  answered  one  or  two  insignifi- 
cant remarks  of  her  aunt  almost  in  monosyllables.  At  last, 
disregarding  all  thought  of  framing  a  course  of  policy  towards 
her,  he  said  what  was  in  his  heart  about  her — one  set  of  ideas 
on  the  subject,  that  is  to  say — very  simply. 

"  I  should  like  you  to  know  that  I  hope  very  earnestly  you 
have  been  well  and  happy  since  I  last  saw  you.*' 

A  look  of  something  like  surprise  crossed  her  face,  and  a 
contraction  of  the  brows,  as  though  it  were  an  effort  to  speak. 

**  Thank  you.     I  have  been  very  well." 

The  conversation  did  not  progress  rapidly.  After  a  further 
pause,  Annerly  said— as  the  conversation  of  the  other  people 
near  them  rose  a  little,  and  made  a  shield  for  bis  few  private 
words, — 

"  No  one  can  hope  more  sincerely  than  I  that  you  may  always 
be  able  to  say  that  in  all  senses," 

So  far,  her  own  brief  fragments  of  speech  had  been  uttered 
with  a  cold,  almost  repellent  tone,  but  in  answer  to  his  last 
remark  she  said,  more  gently, — 

"  You  are  very  generous.     I  am  glad  to  hear  what  you  say." 

"  I  do  not  claim  to  be  that ;  but  I  should  shrink  from  being 
thought  capable,  by  you,  of  having  any  other  feeling  about  you 
than  what  I  have  expressed." 

A  great  change  was  imported  into  their  conversation  by  her 
next  words,  though  they  were  as  meagre  as  those  which  had 
already  passed.  It  was  she  who  asked  him  a  question  this 
time. 

"  Have  you  just  come  abroad  t  *' 

There  was  nothing  in  the  question.  It  might  have  been  put 
to  him  if  they  had  really  met  at  that  table-d*h6ts  for  the  first 
time.     But  it  indicated  a  willingness  to  talk. 

"  At  this  moment  I  am  just  going  back.     I  iuve  been  stay- 


154  EABMA. 

ing  with  friends  on  the  Rhine.     I  have  been  travelling  a  great 
deal — round  the  world,  and  so  forth." 

He  was  wondering,  while  he  spoke,  at  the  thought  that  she 
was  not  Miriam  Seafoid  any  more.  To  him  she  was  never 
thought  of  by  any  other  name.  And  yet  by  this  time  that 
name  would  have  grown  quite  strange  in  her  ears.  He  pro- 
nounced to  himself  the  name  that  must  properly  be  hers  now. 
He  had  no  inclination  to  pronounce  it  aloud.  She  must  be 
travelling  with  her  aunt,  and  no  one  else  at  this  moment,  surely  1 
Otherwise  the  husband,  had  he  been  with  her,  would  have 
been  at  the  table-dlwte  unless  he  were  ill,  perhaps.  Annerly 
wanted  very  much  to  know  what  were  the  general  outlines 
of  her  life.  She  must  have  left  the  stage,  because  he  knew 
that  for  long  past  her  name  had  not  appeared  in  any  theatri- 
cal announcements.  But  was  she  living  in  England  or 
abroad*? — was  she  the  wife  of  a  rich  man,  or  how  was  she 
circumstanced  ? 

"  Are  you  beginning  a  tour,"  he  asked,  "  or  ending  one  1" 

"  Kot  exactly  either.  But  my  aunt  and  I  have  been  staying 
at  places  abroad  for  some  weeks  past." 

He  did  not  pay  so  much  attention  to  the  hanalites  they  were  ex- 
changing as  to  the  sound  of  her  voice,  and  the  special  peculiarities 
and  turns  in  her  pronunciation,  little  minute  individualities  of 
manner,  which  he  had  dwelt  upon  so  fondly  of  old,  and  remem- 
bered now  as  they  reappeared  in  the  few  sentences  she  let  fall. 
What  a  strange,  bewildering  sensation  to  be  near  her  again,  and 
yet,  with  an  invisible  wall  between  them,  to  be  talking  to  her, 
and  yet  measuring  out  meaningless  morsels  of  speech,  and 
holding  back  the  floods  of  emotion,  explanation,  inquiry  he 
would  have  discharged  upon  her  if  he  had  been  free  to  do  this 
without  fear  of  otiending  her,  without  being  deterred  by  the 
general  ignorance  of  her  adventures  since  they  had  parted,  which 
he  was  oppressed  by. 

The  long  intervals,  during  which  they  said  nothing,  continued 
to  intervene  between  the  few  questions  and  answers  they  ex 
changed.  It  seemed  equally  impossible  to  go  on  with  trifling 
conversation,  or  to  venture  on  any  serious  topics.  Eventually 
he  said, — 

'*  Whatever  you  can  conveniently  tell  me  about  your  life  these 
last  three  years  would  interest  me  very  much.  I  have  had  as 
nearly  as  possible  no  opportunity  of  hearing  anything  about  you." 


AN   OLD   LOVE.  155 

**  I  left  the  stage  altogether  about  a  year  and  a  half  ago.     I 

have  been  living  latterly  with  my  aunt." 

It  was  not  a  very  complete  narrative,  but  there  was  enough 
in  it  to  be  puzzling.  Perhaps  she  merely  suppressed  direct 
reference  to  her  marriage  to  avoid  putting  things  in  a  painful 
way  to  him.     But  what  had  become  of  the  husband  ? 

"  You  left  the  stage  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  when— you 
married  1 " 

Colour  gathered  in  her  cheeks  at  the  word,  and  her  brows 
drew  together.  With  a  recurrence  to  the  more  chilling  manner 
in  which  she  had  spoken  at  first  she  said,  curtly, — 

"  I  never  married." 

"What!" 

The  revelation  did  not  make  any  material  difference  to  him. 
They  had  not  parted  because  of  her  marriage.  The  division 
between  them  had  been  quite  definitely  established  before  that 
had,  as  he  believed,  taken  place ;  but  still  it  involved  a  new 
revulsion  of  feeling  to  learn  that  all  the  reflections  on  that  sub- 
ject that  had  passed  through  his  mind,  from  time  to  time,  had 
been  groundless — that  he  had  somehow  been  picturing  her 
wrongly  in  his  mind  all  this  while. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "  I  have  been  misinformed." 

In  some  respects  the  state  of  things  just  disclosed  made  the 
position  more  embarrassing  than  ever.  A  married  woman,  she 
would  not  have  imagined  that  in  addressing  her  now  he  could 
be  seeking  to  renew  their  old  relations.  Still  Miriam  Seaford 
as  she  had  been,  he  would  seem  merely  importunate — a  creature 
deficient  in  delicacy  of  feeling,  who  would  not  keep  out  of  her 
path,  though  she  had  plainly  intimated  her  wish  that  he  would. 
He  had  again  a  strong  desire  to  clear  himself  by  explanation ; 
but  these  jerky  bits  of  conversation,  liable  to  be  overheard,  would 
not  lend  themselves  to  more  confidential  talk. 

"  I  am  on  my  way  to  England,"  he  said  presently,  as  the 
serving  of  the  dinner  drew  towards  its  close,  "  and  I  leave 
Brussels  by  the  Calais  train  in  the  morning  about  eight.  I 
should  like  to  say  a  few  words  to  you  before  going,  which  I 
cannot  say  quite  conveniently  here,  and  if  I  might  be  allowed  to 
join  you  in  the  hall  or  salon  after  dinner  for  a  few  minutes  I 
should  be  gratefuL" 

She  hesitated  a  little  before  replying,  and  then  said  simply, — 

"Very  well." 


156  KABMA. 

Shortly  after  they  all  rose  from  the  table,  and  the  large  crowd 
of  guests  dispersed  in  various  directions.  Miss  Seaford  put  her 
arm  through  her  aunt's,  and  passed  on  with  her  in  advance. 
Annerly  purposely  lingered  behind  a  little.  He  divined  that 
she  would  want  to  give  Miss  Jameson — he  at  last  recalled 
the  aunt's  name  not  without  difficulty — some  explanations  ; 
and  he  sat  down  at  the  table  again,  trifling  with  the  nuts  and 
raisins  of  the  somewhat  meagre  dessert,  to  give  himself  an  excuse 
for  waiting  a  little  v  iiile  longer  in  the  salle-a-manger.  He  frankly 
apologized  to  Reginald  for  negh^cting  him  during  dinner. 

"  I  knew  the  lady  I  have  been  talking  to  years  ago,  Reginald," 
he  said ;  "  I  have  been  a  stupid  companion  for  you,  but  1  could 
not  help  it." 

**  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  travel  with  jne,"  the  boy  said.  "  J 
am  sure  it  is  I  that  ought  to  apologize  for  being  a  burden  on 
you." 

As  usual,  Reginald  was  decades  older,  as  far  as  his  language 
went,  than  his  actual  age.  Annerly  was  touched  by  the  quiet 
unselfishness  which  took  no  heed  of  his  gloomy  temper  during 
the  day,  and  his  entire  distraction  during  the  dinner,  through 
which  Reginald  had  eat  without  exchanging  a  word  with  any 
one. 

"  Thank  you  for  putting  the  thing  so  nicely,  but  if  I  am 
morose  and  a  bad  companion,  that  is  as  our  friends  here  would 
s'xj  plus  forte  que  moi.  I  am  sorry,  but  I  can't  explain  at  present. 
Now  would  you  mind  waiting  for  me  anywhere  about — say  in  the 
reading-room — for  awhile  1  Then,  perhaps,  we  can  take  a  turn 
on  the  boulevards  later.  Just  for  the  moment  I  have  again 
something  that  I  must  say  to  those  ladies." 

"  I  will  wait  for  a  little  in  the  reading-room,  and  then  go  to 
my  own  room  if  you  do  not  come  to  fetch  me.  Pray,  ^Ir. 
Annerly,  don't  put  yourself  out  for  me.  I  am  really  grateful  to 
you,  and  would  not  trouble  you  more  than  1  can  help.  Perhaps 
you  will  be  longer  with  your  friends  than  you  think." 

The  boy's  voice  dropped  a  little  as  he  said  this,  and  there  was 
a  touch  of  sadness  in  his  tone,  a  sort  of  wistful  flavour  which 
Annerly  interpreted,  and  was  much  touched  by,  as  meaning  that 
he  shrank  from  the  neglect  he  anticipated,  though  politely  pro- 
posing to  leave  his  temporary  guardian  full  liberty  of  action. 
Annerly  put  his  hand,  with  a  more  affectionate  feeling  than  he 
had  developed  towards  the  boy  before,  on  Beginald's  shoulder 


AN   OLD   LOVE.  157 

as  they  walked  out  of  the  dining-room  immediately  after  this, 
and  thanked  him,  while  adding  that  they  would  have  their  stroll 
on  the  houlevards  all  the  same  in  a  very  little  while. 

In  the  hall  of  the  hotel  were  sofas,  where  the  guests  sat  about 
after  dinner,  as  well  as  in  the  public  roomsi  Annerly  looked 
about  here  for  the  two  ladies,  at  first  in  vain,  but  presently  he 
saw  the  elder  standing  where  a  turn  of  the  great  staircase  con- 
cealed a  further  comer  from  view.  He  advanced  in  this  direction, 
and  then  she  moved  away  across  the  hall  in  another  direction, 
towards  the  reading-room.  Coming  to  the  place  she  had  occupied 
he  then  saw  Miss  Seaford  seated  alone  on  a  causeuse  concealed 
by  the  staircase  in  a  nook  that  was  thus  screened  from  general 
observation. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  he  said,  as  he  came  up,  "  to  grant 
me  this  opportunity.  I  had  no  expectation  of  the  privilege  of 
speaking  to  you  alone." 

**  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  do  so — if  you  wish 
to.  I  am  only  surprised  that  you  should  care  to  speak  to  me  at 
alL" 

"  If  I  could  have  said  to  you  three  years  ago  what  I  want  to 
say  now  I  should,  I  think,  perhaps  have  felt  the  pain  of  losing  you 
a  little  less  acutely  ;  but  I  may  be  self -deceived  in  that.  I  only 
mean  that  I  have  often  wished  very  much  I  could  have  said 
this,  which  simply  is — that  I  quite  recognize  your  ample  right 
to  cancel  the  too-sweet  promises  you  once  half  let  me  think  you 
made  to  me.  But  I  would  rather  have  surrendered  my  claims 
on  you,  such  as  they  were,  at  your  frankly-expressed  demand, 
than  have  been  as  it  seemed  not  quite  trusted  by  you  to  be 
ready  to  make  a  sacrifice  on  your  behalf.  My  love  for  you 
would  have  been  very  base  and  selfish  if  I  had  been  capable  of 
making  it  hard  for  you  to  get  rid  of  my  claims  when  you  wished 
them  to  be  given  up.  Of  course,  it  would  not  have  made  the 
pain  of  the  sacrifice  itself  any  less,  but  it  might  have  been  some- 
thing to  feel  sure  that  you  knew  I  had  loved  you  truly  enough 
to  have  made  it,  by  my  own  act,  at  your  bidding." 

Miss  Seaford  made  as  if  she  would  speak. 

**  I  think — "  she  began,  but  her  lips  were  not  quite  under 
control,  and  she  got  out  a  handkerchief  instead. 

"  I  think  it  was  by  a  kind  of  mistake  in  the  working  of  my 
destiny  that  my  iU-starred  life  was  entangled  for  a  little  while 
with  yours.     I  only  wonder  that  you  ever  permitted  it  to  be 

11 


158  KARMA. 

for  a  time  so  entaneled ;  unless,  indeed,  ft  had  to  be  that  I  wcs 
to  endure  some  suffering  that  could  hardly  have  accrued  to  me 
in  any  other  way.  But  I  only  indulge  in  this  repining  that 
you  may  understand  just  how  the  thing  stands  in  all  its  bear- 
ings. Then,  perhaps,  some  thoughts  that  have  rankled  with  me 
will  be  at  rest  henceforth." 

"  I  should  have  thought,"  she  said,  "  that  you  would  have 
wanted  to  kill  me  if  you  suffered  like  that." 

He  could  smile  at  the  extravagance,  as  he  sat  beside  her — 
gently  putting  the  idea  aside  with  a  gesture. 

"  If  you  see  what  I  mean  alto_;ether,  you  will  do  me  the 
justice,  in  looking  back,  now,  to  know  that  I  never  harboured 
in  my  heart  one  thought  on  the  low  level  of  anger  against  you. 
I  was — well,  no  matter  what  I  felt  Of  course,  in  losing  you, 
I  lost  all  that  gave  life  any  value  for  me,  but  that  was  no  fault 
of  yours.  Wliy  should  you  have  bestowed  yourself  upon  me  if 
you  did  not  choose  to  do  so  1  My  love  for  you  imposed  no 
duty  upon  you.  It  was  my  hard  fate,  no  fault  of  yours,  tLat  it 
could  not  lead  to  wliat  I  had  extravagantly  expected — or  hoped 
for ;  I  tliink  now,  looking  back,  I  can  hardly  ever  have  really 
expected  it  I  have  never,  never  blamed  you,  Miriam,  neither 
then  nor  since — " 

She  made  an  impatient  little  movement  of  her  foot,  though 
her  head  remained  bent  down  and  she  did  not  speak,  putting 
her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  silently  every  now  and  then. 

"  I  know,"  he  went  on,  "  that  it  could  not  matter  to  you  if 
I  had  presumed  to  blame  you,  but  for  my  own  sake  I  have 
want^^d  you  to  know  that  that  was  not  so." 

"  You  don't  understand  me,"  she  said  then,  getting  command 
of  her  voice  with  some  little  difficulty,  but  speaking  j').n;.!y 
when  the  effort  had  been  made ;  "  I  think  you  had  great  n-a.s  .n 
to  blame  me ;  to  hate  me  for  treating  you  as  I  did.  anl  I  can't 
understand  why  you  didn't" 

''  That  view  of  the  matter  hardly  needs  an  answer  from  me  ; 
and  I  am  sure  you  never  suspected  me  of  not  loving  you,  though 
you  may  have  thought  of  me  as  perhaps  reproachful,  when  I 
was  not  so  really.  So  little  was  that  the  case  that  when  I 
heard  of  you  as  married  I  may  honestly  say  that  my  most 
earnest  wish  was  that  you  might  be  happy  in  that  condition. 
I  did  not  love  you  the  less.  Life  without  you  was  not  the  less 
prolonged  desolation,  but  I  did  hope  that  foi*  you  it  might  be 


AN   OLD    LOVB.  159 

brighter  than  it  pos?ihly  could  be  for  myself.  And  I  am  unable 
to  understand  now  how  I  waa  misled-  I  had  a  letter  when  I 
was  in  China  from  AValter  Maxley,  whom  you  may  just  perhiips 
remember,  definitely  telling  me  that  he  had  met  you  travelling 
in  Switzerland  with  your  husband  It  is  unaccouutible  that 
he  should  have  mistaken  some  one  else  for  yon,  and  have  written 
to  me  about  such  a  matter  as  if  he  were  certain." 

She  had  lifted  her  head  to  look  at  him  with  a  feeling  of 
either  tenderness  or  commiseration  when  she  last  spoke,  out 
now  again  bent  down  her  head.  He  did  not  see  the  colour  in 
her  face,  but  her  voice  was  constrained. 

"  He  was  mis.aken  at  all  events.     I  was  never  married." 

"  It  is  strange  :  but  it  was  not  the  ima^-ined  marriage  that 
put  us  asunder ;  and  even  the  discovery  of  the  mistake  does 
not  justify  me  in  staving  with  you  any  longer  now.  It  has 
been  a  relief  to  me — tor  the  moment  it  seems  so  at  any  rate, 
even  if  to-morrow  I  may  think  that  old  wounds  have  been  but 
needlessly  reopened — to  have  met  you  again,  and  to  have  had 
out  this  explanation.  I  will  say  good-bye  now,  and  if  I  could 
ensure  your  happiness  from  this  time  forth— by  any  act  of 
mine — "  (he  had  almost  formed  a  more  impassioned  sentence, 
but  cancelled  it  as  it  rose  to  his  lips  lest  it  should  sound  too 
much  like  an  implied  entreaty) — "  then  you  would  certainly  be 
happy." 

He  rose  slowly  from  the  seat  beside  her,  and  put  out  his 
hand.  It  could  not  but  be  that  she  saw  it,  but  she  made  no 
motion  of  her  own  to  meet  it.  So  quick  was  he  to  imagine 
himself  regarded  with  aversion  that  he  drew  back  his  hand,  and, 
again  murmuring  "Good-bye,"  was  about  to  leave  her,  when 
she  looked  up  and  motioned  to  him  to  sit  down  again. 

"  Stay,  there  is  no  hurry.  Will  you  not  sit  down  again  t 
There  are  things  I  should  wish  to  say  to  you." 

Annerly  sat  down.  He  did  not  consider  the  situation  in  any 
deliberate  way  at  all,  but  he  was  conscious  of  delight  in  being 
near  her  for  a  little  whUe  longer,  though  the  blessing  was  but 
to  be  evanescent. 

"  Did  you  think  I  wanted  you  to  go  away  without  shaking 
hands  1 "' 

"  I  had  no  right  at  any  rate  to  press  yon  to  do  so  if  you  did 
not  want  Surely  a  woman  may  choose  who  shall  be  hei 
friends,  and  those  not  chosen  have  no  right  to  complain." 


160  KAEMA. 

"  I  could  have  no  better  friend  than  you ;  and  I  never  had 
anything  against  you — but  it  seemed  to  me  before  we  parted 
that  you  would  insist  on  being  a  great  deal  more  than  a  friend 
or  nothing." 

"Very  likely  I  should  have  tried  hard  to  be  more.  Of 
course  you  were  right  to  act  as  you  did.  It  wa-j  the  only  way, 
except,  as  I  say,  that  I  should  have  appreciated,  and  I  would 
certainly  have  justified,  more  trust  at  parting." 

"  Perhaps  I  was  cruel,  through  not  understanding  you  pro- 
perly ;  though  I  ought  to  have  understood  you.  I  think  I  did 
really.  I  suppose  I  was  cruel  through  being  cowardly,  and  not 
wanting  a  parting  scene.  There  is  no  help  for  it  all  now.  But 
after  all  this  time,  and  the  changes,  and  things  that  must  have 
happened,  it  is  diflferent.  I  can  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am  to 
think  I  gave  you  so  much  pain,  and  you  will  forgive  me.  But 
I  know  that  you  have  done  that  all  along." 

"  Indeed  I  have ;  or,  rather,  I  would  never  allow,  in  my  own 
heart  even,  that  there  was  anything  to  forgive.  I  quite  entirely 
consider  you  were  right.  I  was  asking  altogether  too  much  of 
you — too  great  a  sacrifice  in  more  ways  than  one.  But  if 
you  do  not  mind  me  going  on  talking  I  will  show  you  all  my 
thoughts  about  you  very  willingly." 

"  I  want — now  everything  of  the  old  sort,  you  know,  be- 
tween us  is  over,  and  so  long  past— that  I  may  not  lose  sight 
of  you  again  altogether.  I  don't  know  yet  exactly  myself  what 
I  want,  but  I  have  been  feeling  very  sorry  for  having  hurt  you 
so  much.  If  it  is  any  relief  for  you  to  talk  to  me,  and  hear  me 
say  this — then  I  am  very  glad  we  met." 

"  Relief  I  Well,  yes,  it  is  that  in  a  way — more  and  less. 
It  is  for  the  moment  something  like  happiness  to  sit  beside  you 
again,  free  to  say  what  is  in  my  heart  about  you — though,  as  I 
say,  it  will  not  be  that  to-morrow  altogether.  You  see  it  is  no 
news  for  you  that  my  love  for  you  was  very  deep,  and  that 
is  merely  another  way  of  saying  that  it  was  necessarily  very 
lasting.  Since  I  may  make  the  state  of  the  case  clear  to  you,  I 
need  not  hesitate  to  tell  the  simple  truth — don't  be  afraid  that  I 
shall  trouble  you  or  be  importunate ;  but,  of  course,  there  has 
never  been  a  moment  from  when  we  parted  last  till  now 
when  I  have  loved  you  any  less  than  I  always  did  in  the  old 
time." 

**  Oh,  Mr.  Annerly,  don't  say  or  think  such  things.     It's  a 


AN    OLD   LOVB.  161 

kind  of  madness  with  you.  There's  no  reason  for  it.  I'm  not 
in  the  least  worthy  of  being  put  on  a  pedestal  like  that — you 
wovddn't  if  you  knew." 

"  A  kind  of  madness  ?  Well,  I  am  not  mad  in  any  other  way 
that  I  know  of;  but  in  this  respect  I  think  I  have  had  experi- 
ence that  shows  I  am  incurable." 

"  Perhaps  we  ought  to  part — even  now  altogether." 

"  That  1  should  say  depends  upon  whether  I  can  be  of  any 
service  to  you.  It  will  be  something  like  a  relief,  may  be, 
to  me  if  you  keep  up  so  much  communication  with  me  as  may 
enable  me  to  feel  sure  you  can  always  apply  to  me  if  you  need 
me  in  any  way." 

"  But  which  way  is  it  best  for  you  ?  I  do  not  want  to  be 
spoiling  your  life  more  than  I  can  help — " 

Annerly  almost  laughed. 

"  You  must  not  think  of  that,"  he  said ;  *'  it  is  really  not 
worth  while — my  life  has  been  quite  irretrievably  spoilt  in  the 
way  you  mean  already.  Not  through  your  fault,  through  my 
own  vain  presumption  in  thinking  I  could  chain  you  to  it." 

"Would  it  not  be  best  for  you,"  she  asked,  after  a  few 
moments'  pause,  turning  her  head  round  and  looking  him  full 
in  the  face,  "  to  be  quite  cured  of  loving  me  once  for  all  1 " 

"Undoubtedly,  far,  far  best;  quite  immeasurably  the  best 
thing  for  me." 

The  answer  seemed  not  quite  what  she  had  expected,  and  she 
looked  puzzled  for  a  few  moments.     Then  she  said, — 

"  I  see  what  you  mean :  you  mean  it  would  be  impossible." 

**  Unhappily,  yes." 

*'  Perhaps  if  you  knew  the  real  Miriam  Seaford,  instead  of 
the  ideal  you  may  have  got  in  your  own  fancy,  it  would  not  be 
so  impossible." 

"  This  is  the  vainest  fancy  of  all." 

"  At  all  events,  I  know  what  would  be  best  for  you — what 
you  yourself  even  acknowledge  would  be  best." 

Annerly  saw  she  had  some  reserved  meaning  behind  her 
words  in  her  own  mind,  but  attached  no  great  weight  to  this. 
He  only  suspected  the  words  in  one  bearing  they  might  have. 

"I  hope  you  do  not  misunderstand  me.  You  will  talk  of 
extravagant  hypotheses,  and  so  you  force  me  to  refer  to  others. 
Evidently  it  would  be  best,  in  one  sense,  for  any  man  to  be 
cured  of  loving  a  woman  who  does  not  want  his  love — but  such 

M 


162  KARMA. 

A  best  aa  that  is  &  forlorn  alternative  only  ;  no  more  than  that 
Never  mind  me,  however,  except  that  the  best  thing  you  can 
do  for  me,  practiciilly,  is  to  let  me  see  you  and  do  what  I  can 
for  you  from  time  to  time,  if  any  such  opportunities  arise." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  a  kind  of  torture  for  you  if  you  still  care 
for  me  like  that  ] " 

"  A  lesser  kind,  I  think,  than  some  other  sorts  I  know  of. 
Remember  this,  Miriam — at  least  I  beg  yoiji  pardon — it  is 
strange  to  me  to  call  you  anything  else,  but  I  will  try." 

She  only  shook  her  head  sadly,  neither  resenting  nor  en- 
coura^ng  the  use  of  the  name ;  and  Annerly  went  on. 

*'  What  I  was  saying  was  this,  that  you  would  do  wisely,  I 
think,  and  certainly  most  kindly  to  me,  in  taking  facts  for 
granted.  My  love  for  you  is  an  immovable  fact,  and  anyth'ng 
done  on  the  supposition  that  it  may  be  movable  can  only  give 
pain  and  trouble.  But  it  need  not  be  a  disturbing  fact  for  you 
in  any  way.  You  may  quite  trust  my  self-control  I  know  it 
is  the  fashion  for  lovers  to  say  that  they  must  be  lovers  or 
nothing.  That  position  seems  to  me  not  dignified  but  merely 
selfish.  As  I  can't  be  your  lover  I  would  assuredly  rather  be 
your  friend  than  a  stranger." 

There  was  something  in  this  declaration  that  touched  her 
again.  She  was  never  quick  or  impetuous  in  her  movements  or 
words.  But  she  slowly  looked  round  to  him  again,  as  he  sat 
beside  her,  with  something  of  the  old  affectionate  expression 
he  used  to  awaken  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  me,"  she  said ;  "  of  course  I  might 
have  known  you  would  be." 

She  put  her  hand  out  to  him  as  she  spoke,  and  he  clasped  it 
earnestly  for  a  few  moments,  and  bent  his  head  over  it  shghtly. 

"  I  wish  it  had  not  been  so,  for  your  sake,"  she  added ; 
"  but  now — I  would  rather  talk  no  more,  just  at  present.  We 
shall  be  returning  to  England  in  a  very  few  days.  Will  you 
give  me  an  address  to  which  I  can  write  to  you '? " 

Annerly  gave  her  a  card  bearing  the  address  of  his  chambers 
in  London. 

"  I  shall  be  away  at  Cambridge  for  a  few  days,  but  will  take 
care  that  my  letters  are  forwarded.  Probably  I  shall  be  back 
there  myself  as  soon  as  you  are  in  town.  And  you  1  I  should 
be  glad  to  know  where  to  inquire  after  you." 

Miss  Seaf ord  gave  him  her  aunt's  addresa. 


AN  OLD   LOVB.  163 

**  But  I  will  write  to  you ;  I  will  indeed.  Good-bye." 
She  put  out  her  hand,  this  time  spontaneously,  and  left  it  in 
his  as  long  as  he  chose  to  hold  it — a  few  seconds  longer  than 
would  have  been  necessary  for  a  formal  parting — and  she  looked 
up  at  him  as  he  said  good-bye  with  something  like  the  old  look 
he  remembered  so  welL  Then  Annerly  went  upstairs  to  his 
room  to  be  alone  for  a  while  and  review  the  strange  incidents 
of  the  evening. 

So  then  this  was  the  measure  of  his  resolution  about  pursuing 
a  life  of  monastic  spirituality.  He  had  come  again  within  sight 
of  Miriam  Seaford,  and  his  heart  was  throbbing  with  as  much 
wild  passion  of  love  for  her  as  though  the  last  three  years  had 
been  annihilated.  He  had  not  been  even  offered  the  temptation 
of  a  return  to  the  old  relationship  with  her.  He  was  not  called 
on  to  weigh  the  alternative  of  happiness  with  her  as  his  wife 
against  the  further  developments  that  might  follow  adherence 
to  the  programme  pointed  out  to  him  by  the  Baron.  He  was 
simply  put  in  her  presence  and  everything  else  was  forgotten. 
Or  was  it  that  just  because  he  had  not  contemplated  any  resump- 
tion of  old  relations  with  her  he  had  drifted  without  resistance 
into  the  conversation  that  had  taken  place  1  How  would  the 
bare  renewal  of  acquaintance  with  her — the  futile  pain  he  would 
suffer  in  being  frequently  reminded  of  the  happiness  he  might 
have  enjoyed  with  her  if  she  had  regarded  him  differently — in- 
terfere with  the  progress  of  whatever  might  be  possible  for  him 
in  the  path  of  occult  development  1  His  thoughts  were  not  very 
connected ;  he  hardly  strove  to  render  them  so.  The  situation 
made  no  claim  on  him  for  any  immediate  decision.  To  have 
seen  her  again  and  poured  out  loving  words  in  her  ear ;  to  have 
held  her  hand  in  his — if  only  that — once  more ;  to  have  won 
her  back  again  to  the  ext^.nt  of  gaining  friendly  words  from  her, 
and  kindly  looks  and  indications  of  a  readiness  on  her  part  to 
renew  some  sort  of  intercourse  in  the  future — all  this  was 
simply  like  convalescence  after  distressing  illness,  like  ease  after 
pain,  or  rest  and  comfort  and  security  after  shipwreck.  It  was 
a  state  of  things  to  be  dreamily  enjoyed  rather  than  criticized. 
It  crossed  his  mind  to  notice,  as  a  striking  fact,  emphasizing 
the  bitterness  of  the  past,  that  this  barren  consolation  of  having 
simply  talked  with  her  a  little  again  should  be  a  consolation, 
although  it  conveyed  no  promise  of  any  joy  in  the  future  what- 
ever.    He  was  no  more  in  a  position  to  possess  himself  of  that, 

M  2 


164  KARMA. 

which  he  knew  too  surely  to  be  the  only  source  of  happiness 
possible  for  him  in  this  life,  than  he  had  been  yesterday ;  and 
yet  he  had  crossed  a  gulf  since  then,  and  the  world  wore  a  new 
aspect.  It  was  certainly  not  logical,  and  perhaps  it  was  idiotic 
of  him  to  feel  any  sense  of  relief  in  consequence  of  what  had 
passed;  but  surely,  he  said  to  himself,  he  had  gone  through 
enough  to  warrant  him  in  welcoming  any  sense  of  relief,  how- 
ever indefensible  in  reason. 

After  awhile  he  went  downstairs  again  to  seek  out  Reginald, 
but  the  boy  had  acted  as  he  promised,  and  had  left  the  reading- 
room,  relieving  Annerly  of  all  further  duties  on  his  account  that 
evening. 

In  the  morning  they  were  both  up  early  to  catch  the  Calais 
express.  They  met  in  the  haU,  where  Annerly  looked  round, 
thinking  to  himself  how  the  features  of  the  place  would  be  im- 
pressed for  life  upon  his  memory ;  and  he  was  crossing  it  to  go 
to  the  salle-a-manger  for  their  breakfast  when  the  concierge  came 
up  to  him  with  a  note. 

"  The  lady  sent  this  down  last  night,  sir,  to  be  given  to  you 
before  you  started  this  morning." 

The  mere  sight  of  the  familiar  handwriting,  on  which  his  eyes 
had  not  rested  for  so  long,  gave  him  a  renewed  thrill  of  emotion 
— all  the  more  that  bhe  pink  paper  on  which  it  was  written  and 
the  appearance  of  the  envelope  and  its  little  monogram  were 
teeming  with  associations  for  him.  He  had  accumulated  a  large 
store  of  these  pink  notes  at  one  time,  and  he  had  carried  them 
about  with  him  on  his  travels  with  Merland,  done  up  in  a 
packet,  with  the  only  portrait  of  her  that  he  ever  possessed. 
But  he  had  never  been  so  frivolous  in  his  mourning  for  her  as 
to  reread  them.  He  wanted  no  artificial  stimulus  to  refresh  his 
memories  of  the  past ;  and  he  only  unfastened  the  packet  once 
to  bid  a  final  farewell  to  its  contents,  one  day,  when  he  buried 
it  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean  on  his  return  to  England  from  his  trip 
round  the  world.  He  had  a  vague  feeling,  at  the  time,  that  he 
might  be  able  to  turn  a  new  page,  and  would  be  wisest  to  put 
these  useless  mementoes  of  the  old  one  out  of  sight,  once  for  all. 
It  had  not  been  a  ver}'  successful  manoeuvre,  he  sometimes 
thought  afterwards,  but  at  all  events  he  had  not  seen  the  old 
handwriting  from  that  day  till  this,  when  the  burly  concierge  of 
the  Brussels  hotel  handed  him  a  specimen  of  it  once  again,  a 
specimen  that  might  have  taken  its  place  in  the  old  series,  and 


MSTOEED.  165 

that  even  bore  the  old  scent ;  for  Miriam  Seaford  had  a  trick  of 
individualizing  her  habits  in  all  respects,  and  always  used  the 
same  note-paper  and  the  same  scent,  just  as  she  always  did  up 
her  hair  in  the  same  way,  and  kept  as  far  as  fashion  would 
allow  to  some  individualized  fancies  in  her  dress. 
The  note  was  brief  and  merely  said, — 

"Dear  Mb.  Annerlt, — 

**  My  aunt  bids  me  say  that  she  will  be  happy  to  see  you,  if 
you  like  to  call  on  us  after  Wednesday  next.  I  am  living  with 
her  now.    But  I  will  write  to  you  before  then  as  I  promised. 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"Miriam  Seaford.*' 


CHAPTER  XX, 

RESTORED. 

Annbrlt  was  a  vigorous  and  clear-headed  politician,  a  journalist 
distinguished  by  a  keen  and  incisive  style,  and  withal  a  man 
whose  external  appearance  was  not  calculated  to  mark  him  out 
as  a  prey  to  sentimental  imaginings.  But  there  had  not  been 
many  consecutive  hours  since  his  first  acquaintance  with  Miriam 
Seaford  when  her  image  had  been  altogether  absent  from  his 
thoughts.  His  love  for  her  had  coloured  the  whole  fabric  of 
his  mind.  It  might  be  employed  on  this  or  that  pursuit,  but 
its  underlying  sensations  would  be  derived  from  the  inarticulate 
current  of  longing  for  her  that  was  always  flowing  through  it. 
This  was  now  swollen  to  a  torrent  again ;  and  during  the  few 
days  that  he  spent  in  the  fulfilment  of  his  mission  about  Eegi- 
nald,  it  obliterated  all  other  trains  of  reflection. 

With  dinning  sound  my  ears  sure  rife, 

My  tremulouB  tongue  faltereth ; 

I  drink  the  cup  of  a  costly  death 

Brimmed  with  delicious  draughts  of  warmest  life. 

The  lines  would,  over  and  over  again,  sing  their  passionate 
muFic  in  his  heart.     The  little  poem  "  Eleanore  *'  had  been  one 


166  KAEMA. 

he  had  always  associated  in  his  own  fancy  with  Miriam  Seaford 
so  closely  that  it  had  become,  in  the  later  years,  replete  with 
emotions  too  distressing  to  be  needlessly  stirred.  He  had 
shunned  the  verses  ever  since,  as  he  had  shunned  looking  at  the 
old  pink  notes.  But  now  the  colour  of  all  such  associations 
was  changed ;  and  the  verses  came  to  the  front  again  in  his 
imagination,  especially  the  last  two,  which  seemed  peculiarly 
appropriate  to  the  strange  undefined  revival  of  the  past,  which 
had  suddenly  come  about. 

What  did  Miriam  mean  by  the  attitude  she  was  taking  up  t 
What  did  he  himself  desire  1  The  conversation  at  the  hotel 
might,  perhaps,  be  set  down  altogether  to  the  surprise  of  the 
moment ;  to  her  regret  for  having  given  him  so  much  pain  in 
the  past ;  to  an  impression  that  she  might  have  formed  during 
their  separation,  and  might  have  wished  to  verify,  that  perhaps 
he  had  now  recovered  from  his  wound.  But  the  talk  they  had 
had  would  have  shown  her  that  he  still  loved  her  as  much  as 
ever,  and  yet  she  suggested  that  he  should  again  come  and  see 
her — not  to  perform  any  specific  service  for  her,  but  in  a  general 
way  to  resume  intercourse.  It  might  be,  indeed,  to  drink  the 
cup  of  a  costly  death  that  he  would  obey  her  summons,  but  he 
did  not  pretend  to  himself  that  there  was  any  hesitation  in  his 
own  mind  as  to  whether  he  would  go.  Was  the  whole  catas- 
trophe of  his  life,  that  seemed  so  final  and  inevocable,  going 
after  all  to  be  redressed  1  Was  he  going  to  enter  on  a  life  of 
happiness  1  The  conviction  that  every  possibility  of  that  sort 
was  quite  out  of  the  question  in  his  case  had  been  settled  in  his 
belief  so  long,  that  the  new  contingency  now  presented  to  him 
was  bewildering.  And  yet  why  should  it  not  be  realized — since 
Miriam,  after  all,  seemed  leaning  once  more  towards  accepting 
him  as  her  lover  ? 

Very  little  passed  between  Annerly  and  his  companion  on 
their  journey  to  London.  They  had  both  lost  the  feeling  of 
being  awkward  in  not  talking  much.  Reginald  was  always 
contented  to  sink  into  a  book,  and  he  had  brought  two  or  three 
with  him,  which  took  him  off  Annerly's  hands  in  the  train. 
Moreover,  Annerly  had  developed  a  very  kindly  feeling  towards 
him,  in  connection  with  his  beautifully  simple  self-obliteration 
of  the  previous  evening,  and  the  few  words  that  were  exchanged 
had  friendly  impulses  behind  them.  He  even  came  to  be 
interested  in  Keginald  in  a  somewhat  new  way,  because  he 


EE8T0EBD.  167 

realized,  during  their  journey  together,  that  the  quiet  self- 
possession  and  intellectual  advancement  the  boy  exhibited  had 
probably  some  more  subtle  explanation  than  he  had  at  first 
sugpected.  They  had  been  talking  a  little  of  the  programme 
which  was  now  marked  out  for  Eeginald's  education;  and 
Annerly  had  been  thinking  in  his  own  mind  that  perhaps  the 
seclusion  of  the  boy  from  the  rough  companionship  of  others 
might  weaken  his  masculine  fibre,  even  though  special  teaching, 
adapted  to  his  peculiarly  precocious  mind,  might  yield  larger 
results  in  that  way.  He  had  asked  Reginald  whether  he  did 
not  regret  losing  the  games  and  amusements  of  a  big  school. 

"  I  don't  care  about  that  sort  of  thing,  and  they  seem  to 
waste  so  much  time  at  schools,  from  what  I  hear.  I  must 
learn  to  read  Greek  and  Latin  thoroughly  well,  but  I  hope  to 
get  back  to  my  uncle  again  when  that  is  done — so  the  sooner  it 
is  done  the  better.'* 

**  Don't  you  mean  to  live  in  England  when  you  grow  up  V 

"  I  don't  know.  I  haven't  any  plans.  Something  or  other 
will  seem  the  best  thing  to  do  when  the  time  comes,  I  suppose." 

While  they  were  talking  Eeginald  had  held  down  the  book 
he  was  reading  with  his  thumb  in  the  place  and  the  fingers  out- 
side, and  Annerly  noticed  that  the  nail  of  one  of  these  fingers 
was  somewhat  distorted  as  if  it  had  met  with  an  accident. 

"  Have  you  hurt  your  hand  1 "  he  asked. 

Reginald  looked  at  his  finger,  following  the  direction  of 
Annerly's  glance,  and  laughed. 

*' That's  a  very  old  hurt.  It  happened  more  than  a  year 
ago." 

"  What  did  you  contrive  to  do  to  yourself  1 " 

"  Well,  it  was  a  piece  of  stupidity  of  mine  that  my  uncle 
didn't  approve  of  at  all,"  said  Reginald,  but  in  a  tone  that 
showed  that  the  disapproval  had  not  borne  heavily  on  his  con- 
science.    Annerly  asked  what  was  the  joke. 

"  Well ;  I'd  been  reading  a  good  deal  about  the  Indian  fakirs 
and  yogis,  who  show  their  tremendous  will-power  by  bearing 
pain.  So  I  thought  there  might  be  some  great  wonder  to  learn 
about  that  way,  and  I  thought  I'd  try.  I  managed  to  tear  off 
one  of  my  finger-nails — " 

"  What !  "  cried  Annerly  in  amazement,  **you  mean  you  did 
it  on  purpose  1 " 

"  Yes ;  it  was  very  difficult  to  manage,  but  I  did,  just  as  my 
12 


168  KARMA. 

uncle  came  rushing  in  to  stop  me.  He  put  on  the  nail  again, 
and  hound  my  finger  up.  Of  course  no  ordinary  doctor  could 
have  made  it  grow  again  at  all,  and  even  he  did  not  make  it 
grow  quite  straight." 

Annerly  sat  looking  at  the  hoy  in  silent  wonder.  Having 
heen  pressed  with  questions  he  had  told  his  story  very  simply 
— he  had  not  even  brought  it  out  in  a  spirit  of  boasting.  And 
this  was  the  boy  tliat  he  had  been  thinking  might  be  in  need  of 
a  little  Eton  or  Itugby  *'  roughing  "  to  strengthen  his  masculine 
fibre  !  It  was  borne  in  on  his  understanding  very  forcibly  that 
in  some  way  Reginald  must  be  other  than  what  he  seemed— no 
mere  commonplace  son  of  Sir  John  Hexton's,  forced  prematurely 
in  his  mental  development,  by  living  with  the  Baron. 

"  I'm  glad  I  heard  that  queer  story,"  he  said.  "  I  am  the 
less  likely  to  misunderstand  you — and  may  be  the  better  able 
to  look  after  this  business  of  the  private  tutor  for  you.  I  feel 
as  if  I  ought  to  apologize  for  having  talked  to  you  sometimes — 
as  if  you  were  a  boy  !  " 

'*  So  I  am  a  boy,"  said  Reginald,  laughing ;  "  but  you  know 
in  a  general  way  what  my  uncle  is,  and  anybody  who  wants  to 
be  like  him  has  got  to  begin  young  I  believe." 

"  There's  food  for  a  great  deal  of  reflection  in  that,"  said 
Aimerly. 

"  I  don't  mean  that  those  who  begin  young  are  the  only  ones. 
Others  may  be  better  qualified,  and  begin  later." 

It  struck  Annerly  that  his  present  state  of  mind  was  not  an 
illustration  of  his  own  especially  superior  qualitications  in  that 
line  ;  and  that  it  was  perhaps  a  somewhat  quixotic  notion  that 
had  recertly  been  leading  him  to  think  the  path  of  occult  pro- 
gress oiie  he  might  be  able  to  tread.  But  the  nature  of  the 
obstacles  in  his  way  precluded  him  altogether  from  discussing 
them  with  Reginald,  and  after  a  little  while  they  both  resumed 
their  reading. 

The  journey  was  a  doubly  impressive  one  for  Annerly,  for 
he  had  a  vivid  sense  of  the  contrast  between  all  he  knew  of 
Reginald — of  the  strange  destinies  probably  in  store  for  him,  of 
the  scenes  in  which  they  had  both  recently  been  taking  a  part, 
and  on  the  other  hand  of  the  dull  ignorance  concerning  aU  these 
mysteries  on  the  part  of  the  people  they  sat  among  in  railway- 
carriages  and  on  the  steamboat  and  in  hotels.  Then,  beyond 
this,  he  was  moved  by  the  suppressed  under- current  of  strong 


EBSTOEED.  169 

personal  excitement  dne  to  the  revolution  that  had  taken  place 
in  his  own  most  private  affairs. 

He  had  no  accommodation  to  offer  Reginald  at  his  chambers, 
so  they  spent  one  night  at  a  London  hotel,  and  went  on  the 
following  morning  to  Cambridge,  where  Annerly  instantly  set 
about  the  inquiry  with  which  he  was  charged.  His  acquaint- 
ances in  Cambridge  were  many.  He  had  always  remained 
deeply  attached  to  the  scene  of  his  first  successful  struggle  from 
the  lower  intellectual  life  in  which  he  had  been  bom,  up  into 
the  more  exhilarating  mental  atmosphere  of  cultivated  society, 
and  he  had  maintained  the  habit  of  frequently  returning  to  the 
university,  to  resume  his  cap  and  gown  for  awhile,  to  attend 
dinners  in  hall  and  chapel  services,  and  to  exercise  the  various 
privileges  of  his  fellowship.  A  couple  of  days  enabled  him  to 
find  a  suitable  home  for  Reginald ;  and,  bidding  him  good-bye 
with  a  hearty  goodwill  established  between  them,  that  the 
earlier  experiences  of  their  journey  had  scarcely  seemed  to 
promise,  he  went  back  to  London  on  the  third,  and  as  he  entered 
his  own  room  his  eyes  were  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  a  pink 
note  Ijang  on  the  centre  table.  Eagerly  opening  it,  he  read  as 
follows, — 

"Dear  Mr.  Annerly, — 

'*  I  am  true  to  my  promise  this  time — will  yon  Bay  for  a 
wonder  1  I  am  going  to  write  a  letter  that  may  lead  to  pain  and 
unhappiness  for  both  of  us,  or  to  the  reverse — who  knows] 
But  I  must  warn  you  not  to  be  too  much  elated,  at  any  rate,  by 
what  I  am  going  to  say  first. 

"  I  really  did  not  think  that  your  love  for  me  would  have 
remained  so  strong,  and  I  don't  think  now  you  are  to  be  at  all 
congratulated  on  being  so  faithful ;  for  I  don't  think  it  is  in  me 
to  love  anybody  in  a  way  that  would  at  all  correspond  to  the 
sort  of  love  you  have  for  me.  But  I  am  writing  to  tell 
you  that  if  you  like  to  resume  the  old  relations  there 
used  to  be  between  us  I  am  willing  that  things  should  be 
80.  It  would  be  nonsense  for  me  to  seem  to  doubt 
whether  you  wish  this  after  what  passed  between  us  at 
Brussels,  but  I  may  be  preparing  a  great  humiliation  for  myself 
in  saying  this,  for  you  have  much  to  learn  about  me  before  you 
must  answer  this, 

"  For  one  thing,  your  friend  was  mistaken  when  he  told  you 


170  KABMA. 

I  was  married,  but  there  was  a  time  when  I  wished  to  be,  and 
believed  that  I  was  going  to  be.  I  shall  not  tell  you  all  about 
this  myself — I  shall  leave  my  aunt  to  do  that  for  me.  But, 
though  I  dare  say  you  will  be  very  glad  to  hear  what  I  have 
just  told  you — that  you  may  now  have  me  for  your  wife  if  you 
wish  it — it  remains  to  be  seen  whether  you  will  wish  it,  after 
you  have  seen  and  talked  with  her. 

"  Entre  deux  amants  il  y  a  toujours  un  qui  aime  et  un  que  se 
laisse  aimer.  I  am  but  offering  you  me  laisser  aimer  again,  and 
if  you  decline,  then,  at  least,  it  will  have  been  that  you  are 
cured  of  your  love  for  me,  and  I  shall  not  have  to  think  of  my- 
self any  more  as  having  ruined  your  life  for  always. 

"  You  can  go  and  see  my  aunt  to-morrow  afternoon.  I  shall 
not  be  at  home  myself ;  and  your  impatience  to  see  me — if  you 
are  impatient  still — must  wait  a  little  longer.  About  that  you 
will  hear  from  my  aunt. 

"  I  do  not  think  till  then,  anyhow,  that  I  need  hesitate  to 
call  myself 

"  Yours  affectionately, 

"Miriam  Seapord." 

"  Miriam,  Miriam,  my  darling !  **  was  the  first  comment  that 
Annerly  made  on  the  letter,  as  he  leaned  forward  in  his  easy- 
chair,  stretching  out  his  arms  to  the  vision  of  his  beloved  that 
rose  before  his  mind's  eye.  And  yet  the  veiled  significance  of 
her  explanation  was  not  lost  upon  him.  "Some  one  has 
betrayed  her,"  he  thought.     "  The  fool— the  fooL" 

There  was  a  tinge  of  pain  perceptible  amid  the  delirium  of 
his  own  joy  at  the  thought  which  his  imagination  quickly 
grasped.  This  story  of  Maxley's,  of  how  she  had  been  seen 
*'  travelling  with  her  husband  " — there  could  hardly  be  much 
doubt,  after  what  she  now  wrote,  as  to  how  the  mistake  arose. 
And  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  write  details — that  she  had 
left  to  her  aunt. 

He  did  not  want  details.  They  belonged  to  a  horrible  night- 
mare-time that  might  now  be  put  away  and  obliterated.  Had 
she  loved  the  other  man  1  There  was  true  pain  in  that  conjec- 
ture. But  surely  there  could  have  been  no  love  of  the  sort 
that  would  be  abiding.  There  would  certainly  be  many  people 
who  would  condemn  him  for  not  condemning  her,  in  the  face  of 
what  he  now  learned,  for  not  at  once  "  plucking  her  image  from 


BESTOEED.  171 

his  heart," — as  he  scornfully  phrased  the  idea.  But  how  little 
such  criticism,  he  thought,  would  take  account  of  such  love  as 
his  for  Miriam  1  He  loved  her ;  not  what  other  people  might 
think  about  her.  If  she  had  done  this  or  that  which  she  ought 
not  to  have  done,  she  was  none  the  less  herself.  To  pass  through 
life  without  her  was  the  sum  of  all  misery ;  to  pass  through  life 
with  her  would  be,  if  not  absolute  happiness — for  experience 
could  only  show  what  new  possibilities  of  suffering  his  later 
destiny  might  hold — at  all  events,  the  only  condition  of  things 
which  made  happiness  possible. 

How  little  conventional  moralists — who  would  find  his 
too  easy  forgiveness  of  her  sin,  discreditable — how  little 
they  would  understand  the  only  thing  which  really  did  make 
him — not  hesitate  to  accept  her  offer,  for  he  knew,  in  his  heart, 
that  he  could  not  pretend  to  hesitate  for  one  fraction  of  a 
second — but  feel  some  touch  of  shame  in  embracing  it,  as  he 
did,  without  hesitation.  He  was  cutting  himself  off,  within  a 
few  days  after  he  had  been  wishing  to  bind  himself  to  it  by 
vows,  from  the  life  of  occult  study  and  development,  the 
marvellous  avenues  of  which  had  been  half-opened  before  him 
by  his  intercourse  with  the  Baron,  and  across  the  threshold  of 
which  he  might  almost  be  said  to  have  passed.  He  did 
remember,  as  he  sat  with  Miriam's  letter  in  his  hand,  how  the 
Baron  had  said  to  him  that  evening  in  the  chamber — better  not 
bind  yourself  by  vows,  even  uttered  in  private ;  it  would  be 
better  to  give  up  soon,  rather  than  late,  if  your  resolution  is 
likely  not  to  be  strong  enough  to  carry  you  all  the  way.  He 
was  acting  upon  that  advice  but  too  promptly.  He  \\  as  indeed 
giving  up  soon.  He  was  to  try  the  very  thing  he  had  so  un- 
justly scorned  poor  Mcrland  for  aiming  at.  He  was  going  to 
make  a  little  paradise  on  earth  for  himself  for  a  few  years,  and 
to  turn  away  from  the  path  which  led  to  the  far  grander 
heaven  he  had  dimly  discerned  as  connected  with  the  elevation 
of  his  soul  to  a  higher  spiritual  level  altogether — one  on 
which  the  single  individual  loves  of  our  own  stage  of  develop- 
ment would  be,  in  some  mysterious  way,  not  deadened  but 
superseded. 

It  was  very  sad  that  human  nature  was  weak,  but  with  him, 
at  least,  love  for  Miriam  was  strong.  Wise,  wise  friend  the 
Baron  had  been — could  he  have  been  prophetically  wise  ? — in 
warning  him  against  the  formal  enunciation  of  vows  which  it 


172  KARMA. 

might  have  been  humiliating  to  break,  and  which  it  would  have 
been  useless  folly  to  have  kept — in  view  of  the  feeling  with 
which  his  whole  soul  was  now  flooded.  He  would  have  to 
write  to  the  Baron  and  tell  him  what  had  occurred,  and  to 
Merland  too.  But  first  he  had  to  write  a  report  of  his  opera- 
tions in  Eoginald's  interest  at  Cambridge.  He  could  do  that 
without  touching  the  other  matter,  and  keep  his  confession 
waiting  till  all  was  definitely  settled  again  between  Miriam  and 
himself. 

The  day  was  a  tedious  one  to  pass.  "  I  might  have  been  with 
you  at  this  moment,  my  own  love,"  he  thought,  "  if  you  had 
not  been  distrustful  of  me  even  now."  But  this  reflection  was 
not  overwhelming.  The  delay  did  not  threaten  to  be  protracted. 
Perhaps  by  next  evening  he  would  be  with  her.  Slowly  the 
time  wore  by.  He  did  some  work.  The  distraction  of  happi- 
ness is  unfavourable  to  work,  but  less  so  than  the  distraction  of 
misery,  which  he  had  long  been  trained  to  resist. 

He  went  out  in  the  evening,  and  dined  at  a  literary  club 
he  had  lately  been  enabled  to  join.  Most  of  the  usual  fre- 
quenters were  away  on  autumn  travels,  but  the  small  party  that 
was  left  found  him  strangely  good  company.  He  had  been 
respected  in  a  way  hitherto  for  what  he  had  done,  but  had  not 
been  found  a  cheerful  convive.  This  evening  he  talked  and 
laughed  and  talked  like  the  rest.  Some  one  remarked  that  he 
was  deucedly  improved  since  he  had  joined  the  Vasile  Club. 

At  the  earliest  reasonable  hour  next  day  he  knocked  at  Miss 
Jameson's  door.  The  lady  lived  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Regent's  Park,  in  a  suite  of  rooms  which  Annerly  found  to  be  a 
modest  "  flat,"  but  comfortable  and  pleasantly  furnished. 

Miss  Jameson  was  at  home,  and  he  found  her  alone  when  he 
was  shown  into  her  little  drawing-room. 

"  You  got  a  letter  from  Miriam,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Annerly  1 " 
she  said,  after  a  few  nervous  greetings. 

"Yes.  I  have  come  to  see  you,  Miss  Jameson.  I  suppose 
she  is  not  herself  at  home  1 " 

"  No,  she  is  out — in  fact  she  has  gone  into  the  country." 

"  The  country  I     Has  she  gone  far — or  for  long  1 " 

"  Well,  no — I  will  tell  you  about  that  afterwards — if  you 
wish  to  know." 

**  Miss  Jameson,  before  you  go  further  let  me  assure  you  thai 
nothing  you  can  say  to  me — nothing^  whatever  it  may  be — will 


EESTORED.  173 

make  me  cease  to  wish  to  know  where  Miss  Seaford  is,  or  cease 
to  wish  to  go  to  her  wherever  she  may  be — if  that  is  not  contrary 
to  her  wish.  I  do  not  know  definitely  what  it  is  you  have  to 
tell  me ;  but  it  may  help  you  to  speak  freely  if  I  say  at  the 
outset  that  it  cannot  alter  the  abiding  wish  of  my  life — to  have 
Miriam  Seaford  for  my  wife." 

Miss  Jameson  gazed  at  him  earnestly. 

"  She  said  that  would  be  so ;  but  I  wasn't  sure.  And 
she  would  go  away  all  the  same.  She's  a  strange  girl,  yon 
know.  Nothing  will  ever  move  her  from  whatever  she  chooses 
to  do." 

"  She's  all  the  world  to  me,  Miss  Jameson,  as  of  course  you 
know.  I  had  acquiesced  in  the  surrender  of  my  hopes  about 
her  till  the  other  day,  and  had  no  thought  of  proposing  to 
restore  the  old  engagement  between  us.  I  would  never  have 
importuned  her,  but  now  I  am  free  again  to  tell  her  how 
eagerly  I  resume  it.  There  are  some  preliminary  explanations 
to  pass  between  us,  I  understand.  Shall  we  not  get  them 
over  ? " 

"I'm  sure  T  want  to  get  them  over,"  said  Miss  Jameson, 
piteously,  "but  it  is  so  hard.  Dear  Miriam  was  very,  very 
foolish,  and  of  course  she  was  very  wrong." 

The  devoted  aunt's  lips  quivered  as  she  launched  herself  thus 
on  her  task.  Then  the  handkerchief  had  to  come  into  play,  and 
for  a  little  while  longer  the  explanations  were  again  postponed. 

"  Mr.  Annerly,  I'm  sure  you  love  Miriam  truly.  I  haven't 
known  you,  but  I've  heard  about  you.  But,  indeed,  I  don't 
think  you  love  her  more  than  I  do,  and  it  nearly  killed  me 
when  she  made  this  terrible  mistake.  Oh,  it's  too  hard  to 
make  me  go  over  the  story." 

"  But  I  do  not  want  you  to.  Do  understand,  I  want  to  hear 
as  little  of  this  dreadful  episode  as  possible.  I  understand  it, 
I  believe,  already  quite  sufficiently.  I  am  not  anxious  to  hear 
another  syllable." 

"  Miriam  insisted  that  I  should  tell  you  the  plain  truth,  that 
there  could  be  no  possibility  of  misunderstanding  afterwards. 
Of  course  we  thought  she  actually  had  been  married  to  the 
man  privately,  but  she  was  misled  about  this.  It  is  all  over 
now,  and  her  own  father  will  not  have  anything  to  say  to  her. 
He's  a  very  good  man,  but  very  unbending.  He  always  htted 
her  going  on  the  stage." 

12 


174  KARMA. 

"  Wretch  1  Does  he  hope  to  be  forgiven  his  own  sins  V* 

"Ah  well,  it  does  not  make  much  difference  you  know, 
because  for  a  long  time  Miriam  has  been  either  independent,  or 
has  been  with  me.  I  haven't  a  great  income,  but  I  have  enough 
to  give  ray  own  Miriam  a  home  ;  and  you're  better  off  yourself 
now  than  you  were,  Mr.  Annerly,  ain't  you  1 " 

The  unselfishness  of  the  inquiry  was  so  perfect  that  it  was 
cleared  of  every  trace  of  otlence.  Annerly  reassured  Miss 
Jameson  on  this  point,  and  asked  when  it  was  intended  that  he 
should  see  Miriam. 

"  You're  to  go  down  to  her  at  Purfleet.  There  is  a  farm- 
house there,  where  the  woman  is  an  old  nurse  of  hers  ;  and  she 
sometimes  goes  there  when  she  wants  quiet  and  country-air  for 
a  few  days.  But  I  haven't  told  you  all  you  must  know  yet. 
There  must  be  nothing  left  for  her  to  tell.  It  is  very  terrible 
for  all  of  us,  Mr.  Annerly,  but  we  haven't  got  to  the  end  of  it 
yet.     There  may  be  divorce  proceedings.** 

"  How  do  you  mean  1 " 

"  The  horrid  man  was  married  before,  it  turns  out,  and  his 
wife  has  found  it  out.  It  was  about  that  matter  that  we  were 
in  Brussels,  to  try  and  prevent  the  affair  being  made  public." 

Vague  impressions  of  a  very  painful  nature  began  to  cloud 
Annerly's  mind. 

"In  Brussels."  It  suddenly  crossed  Annerly's  recollection 
that  he  had  heard  the  name  Miriam  Seaford  pass  between  Lady 
Emily  and  Sir  John  Hexton  in  the  railway-carriage  on  the 
journey  to  Cologne.  "  Who  then  is  the  man  ? "  he  asked.  He 
had  been  conscious  before  of  a  wish  to  avoid  knowing  this,  but 
the  question  forced  itself  from  him  now. 

*'  We  knew  him  by  another  name  at  first ;  but  he  is  reaUy 
called,  it  seems,  Professor  ]MaRsilton." 

The  name  fell  upon  Annerly  like  a  blow  on  the  head  with  a 
sort  of  stunning  effect.  The  tale  told  him  had  never  seemed 
fully  to  penetrate  his  sensibiUties  till  then.  As  a  frightful 
episode  of  the  past,  now  happily  over,  he  could  have  driven  it 
from  his  thoughts  to  a  great  extent.  As  a  shadowy  horror,  not 
to  be  associated  with  names  or  places,  it  was  swept  away  by  the 
tornado  of  his  passion.  But  now  it  was  not  only  emphasized  by 
having  names  assigned  to  it  but  suddenly  illuminated  with  the 
most  terrible  precision  by  his  own  familiarity  with  all  the 
persona  concerned.     He  gave  vent  to  an  incoherent  ejaculation. 


BESTOBBD.  175 

»*  What  is  the  matter  t » 

•*  I  know  him." 

They  both  felt,  without  stopping  to  analyze  the  reason  why, 
that  the  situation  was  somehow  made  a  gTeat  deal  worse  in  this 
way ;  and  Miss  Jameson  began  softly  crying  again,  while 
Annerly  sat  motionless  for  a  while  gazing  fixedly  at  the  opposite 
wall 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  told  you  where  she  was  till  we  had  got 
over  all  this,"  said  Miss  Jameson. 

Annerly,  for  an  instant,  failed  to  catch  the  point  of  her 
remark.  Then  he  recovered  himself  and  rose,  as  it  were,  from 
the  shock  of  the  revelation  just  made. 

"  Miss  Jameson,  I  told  you  that  nothing  you  could  say  would 
affect  my  feehng  for  her.  The  shock  of  what  I  have  learned  is 
distressing  for  various  reasons ;  but  I  tell  you  again  nothing  can 
change  my  love  for  Miriam.  It  must  always  be  a  part  of  my- 
self— whether  a  source  of  joy  or  of  sorrow.  I  am  glad  to  have 
had  this  revelation  over  before  seeing  Miriam ;  but  now,  when 
can  I  go  to  her  ? " 

"  Mr.  Annerly,  I  do  think  you  will  be  able  to  make  her  happy 
when  this  horrible  business  is  over.  I'll  tell  you  how  to  find 
her."  And  then  Miss  Jameson  gave  him  exact  directions,  the 
time  of  a  train  he  would  be  able  to  catch  that  afternoon,  and 
showed  him,  on  a  map,  how  he  should  go  when  he  reached 
his  destination.  There  was  no  immediate  hurry,  and  he  stayed 
talking  with  Miss  Jameson  for  some  time  longer.  There  was  a 
bond  of  union  between  them  in  the  culte  to  which  they  were 
both  devoted. 

It  was  a  lovely  summer  evening  when  he  got  out  of  the  train, 
between  six  and  seven,  at  Purfleet,  and  took  a  field-path  after 
walking  a  little  way  along  the  road-  The  impression  that  had 
been  created  on  his  mind,  at  first,  by  the  mention  of  the  Pro- 
fessor's name  had  given  way  as  he  approached  the  place  where 
he  was  to  find  his  love  waiting  once  more  to  restore  herself  to 
his  arms,  to  the  intoxication  of  that  one  idea.  There  might  be 
trouble  and  anxiety  arising  out  of  all  this  dreadful  business  in 
the  future,  but  what  of  that?  If  Miriam  was  to  be  his,  that 
fact  woidd  be  to  his  life  as  the  sun  to  the  world.  There  might 
be  clouds,  but  stiU  it  would  be  day — while,  if  the  sun  were 
away,  though  the  sky  should  be  clear  it  would  be  night.  And 
the  dawn  of  this  day,  for  him,  wo7ild  be  the  dawn  of  a  polai 


176  KAEMA. 

summer — after  so  long  a  night  that  the  blessed  simshine  seemed 
a  remote  experience  of  another  existence. 

**  Heavens !  what  I  have  gone  through  ! "  he  thought.  **  Are 
the  years  of  this  long  pain  over,  and  the  weeks,  and  the  days  1 
and  now  it  la  a  question  of  minutes  when  life  is  to  begin 
again." 

A  nervous  anxiety  possessed  him.  Would  not  some  accident 
happen  to  the  train  to  defeat  his  expectations? — would  not 
some  dreadful  mistake  turn  out  to  have  been  made  by  her  aunt 
in  the  directions  she  had  given  him  1  It  would  surely  not 
happen  that  for  him,  with  his  long-established  theory  that  his 
life  was  cursed,  the  cream  and  final  glory  of  such  long  longed-for 
happiness  was  really  waiting  him  among  these  lanes  1  He  hurried 
on  and  came  to  the  stile  Miss  Jameson  had  spoken  of^  alter 
which  the  path  led  through  a  little  coppice — a  few  light  trees 
at  the  end  of  a  field.  He  had  crossed  it  and  was  amongst  them, 
and  then — there  was  a  low  seat  in  view  in  the  shade  of  the 
trees,  a  little  to  the  right ;  and  in  a  plain,  grey  dress,  with  a 
glow  of  ruby  ribbons  and  white  lace  at  the  neck,  she  was 
waiting  for  him.  The  black  night  had  given  way  and  the  day 
was  shining  in  full  glory  once  again. 

"  Oh,  Miriam  !     Miriam,  my  darling  I  ** 

He  sat  beside  her,  and  put  his  arms  round  her,  not  with  any 
sudden  gesture,  but  as  though  her  restoration  to  him  were  a 
solemn  act  that  had  to  be  accomplished  reverently,  and  drew 
down  her  lustrous  head  upon  his  shoiilder.  She  had  taken  off 
her  hat,  and  the  warm  evening  light  shone  upon  the  wavy 
masses  of  her  shining  hair,  and  on  the  beautiful  brown-pink 
tints  of  her  complexion.  She  resigned  herself  to  his  embrace 
with  a  willing  sinile,  though  with  a  shadow  that  was  half  sad- 
ness, half  contrition,  crossing  its  expression,  and  let  him  take 
at  leisure  the  kisses  he  had  been  starving  for  so  long. 

"  You  see  I  expected  you,"  she  said.  **  Is  not  that  trusting 
to  your  love,  indeed,  at  last  t " 


A  mw  opENuro.  177 

CHAPTER  XXL 

▲  NEW  OPENING. 

A  ¥EW  days  were  spent  very  quietly  at  Heiligenfels  after  the 
partial  break-up  of  the  party  on  the  departure  of  Lady  Emily 
and  the  others  who  went  away  with  her.  But  the  Baron's  sug- 
gestion to  Mrs.  Miller — that  they  would  remain  a  very  pleasant 
little  party  still,  in  spite  of  the  defections — was  amply  vindicated. 
Mrs.  Miller,  for  her  own  part,  was  more  than  compensated  for 
the  reduced  gaiety  of  the  house,  by  the  opportunities  she  now 
enjoyed  of  becoming  more  intimately  acquainted  with  Mrs. 
Lakesby.  Blane  and  the  Professor  were  steadily  occupied 
with  certain  literary  work  they  had  taken  in  hand  in  connec- 
tion with  the  psychic  experiences  they  had  recently  acquired ; 
and  for  all  of  them  the  awe  that  had  at  first  overwhelmed  them 
in  the  wood,  when  the  great  manifestation  had  been  made  of 
the  Baron's  abnormal  powers,  had  given  place  to  a  sense  of 
exhilaration  at  being  in  close  and  friendly  relations  with  so 
extraordinary  a  person.  There  was  more  in  the  Baron's  visible 
attributes  to  evoke  affection  on  the  part  of  people  round  him, 
than  to  excite  mere  wonder.  Merland  was  the  only  member  of 
the  party  who  was  not  quite  in  his  usual  spirits ;  but  his  tem- 
perament was  elastic,  and  the  influences  of  the  castle  were  of  a 
kind  to  emphasize  very  strongly  his  interest  in  occult  matters, 
which  had  roots  of  its  own  in  his  nature  quite  independent  of 
his  recent  exaltation  of  feeling  in  regard  to  Miss  Vaughan. 
The  contracted  group,  moreover,  was  knit  together  more  closely 
than  the  larger  gathering  had  been  previously,  and  they  dropped 
at  once  into  the  habit  of  assembling  in  full  force  at  breakfast, 
as  well  as  at  dinner,  finding  no  ennui  or  sameness  attaching  to 
conversations  constantly  brightened  by  the  fragmentary  expla- 
nations the  Baron  would  now  frequently  venture  upon  concern- 
ing the  mysteries  of  the  sciences  or  pursuits  to  which  his  life 
bad  been  devoted. 

And  in  a  different  way  it  was  scarcely  less  interesting  for 
them  to  obtain  from  Mrs.  Lakesby  the  daily  assurance,  which 
her  faculties  enabled  her  to  supply,  that,  on  a  different  plane  of 
Katoie  so  to  speak,  they  were  constanUy  in  presence,  without 


178  KABMA. 

having  been  previously  aware  of  this,  of  beings  in  a  different 
state  of  existence  from  themselves.  It  was  in  the  direction  of 
observations  having  to  do  with  that  other  plane  of  existence 
that  Mrs.  Lakesby's  clairvoyance  was  most  frequently  exer- 
cised 

"  There's  no  interest,**  she  pointed  out  to  the  Professor,  "in 
poking  about  among  other  people's  rooms  and  houses  in  your 
astral  body  ;  and  it's  not  always  a  nice  thing  to  do.  It's  taking 
a  mean  advantage  of  them.  But  my  friends  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hedge  are  always  glad  for  me  to  go  to  them,  and  I  am 
glad  for  them  to  come  to  me." 

"Too  glad,"  said  the  Baron,  "sometimes,  Mrs.  Lakesby, 
perhaps," 

"  Now,  don't  be  too  strict  with  me,  Baron." 

"  I  am  only  anxious  that  you  should  not  be  too  cruel  to 
yourself." 

"  Now,  you  two  superior  people,'*  said  the  Professor,  "  are 
talking  in  enigmas.  If  we  got  this  all  unravelled,  humbler 
mortals  might  learn  something." 

They  were  talking  one  evening  after  dinner,  the  pleasant 
effect  on  the  air  of  the  warm  summer  day  just  past,  enabling 
them  to  sit  out  on  the  terrace,  where  the  light  incense  of  their 
cigars  and  cigarettes  floated  away  towards  the  river. 

**  The  question,"  answered  the  Baron,  "  about  which  Mrs. 
Lakesby  and  I  are  not  quite  in  accord — " 

"Poor  Mrs.  Lakesby!"  said  that  lady,  interrupting.  "I 
object  to  have  the  case  stated  in  so  crushing  a  way  as  that." 

"  I'm  no  Pope,  that  people  must  be  wrong  if  they  disagree 
with  me ;  and  it  is  quite  as  likely  our  friends  will  agree  with 
you  as  with  me  if  they  realize  the  problem — though,  of  course, 
I  think  I  am  right." 

"  I'm  sure,"  Mrs.  Miller  put  in,  "  that  Mrs.  Lakesby  would 
not  deny  that,  only  she  wants  to  see  the  folly  of  it  for  herself, 
like  young  girls  first  going  out  into  society." 

"  Dear  ladies,"  pleaded  the  Professor,  "  if  we  could  deal  with 
this  matter  one  at  a  time  would  it  not  be  better  1  Suppose  the 
Baron  has  the  first  innings." 

Mrs.  Lakesby  assumed  her  demurest  good-school-girl  air,  and 
Mrs.  Miller  only  satirized  the  Professor  by  turning  to  Jem,  who 
had  not  opened  his  Lips  for  some  time  except  to  emit  cigarette 
smoke,  and  told  him  not  to  speak  again  till  he  wa£  spoken  to. 


▲  NEW  OPBNINO.  179 

•*The  difficulty/*  said  the  Baron,  "has  to  do  with  under- 
standing  rightly  what  is  the  nature  of  the  entities  Mrs.  Lakeshy 
perceives  by  the  help  of  her  beautiful  clairvoyant  sight.  There 
is  nothing  in  nature  more  delusive  than  the  phenomena  of  that 
border-land  of  spiritual  life  that  we  get  into  when  we  first  cross 
the  frontier  of  physical  phenomena.  We  may  seem  there  to 
encounter  living  beings  whom  we  may  be  apt  to  mistake  for 
spirits  of  a  more  or  less  angeHc  order,  when  they  are  really  no 
more  than  shades  of  former  human  beings,  whose  nobler  aspect, 
so  to  speak,  is  turned  away  from  us,  and  imperceptible  even  to 
the  higher  clairvoyant  sense,  which  perceives  what  may  be 
called  their  astral  aspect." 

Mrs.  Lakesby  broke  into  a  little  laugh. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Baron,"  she  said,  "  I  was  not  laughing 
at  what  you  said,  but  at  something  said  by  an  *  astral  shade, 
there  standing  near  the  Professor." 

By  this  time  they  had  all  grown  to  be  familiar  with  the 
fact  that  Mrs.  Lakesby  constantly  perceived  dramatis  personce 
on  the  scene  who  were  not  apparent  to  ordinary  spectators, 
and  were  not  startled  when  she  announced  this  or  that 
spectral  presence,  and  the  ideas  or  remarks  it  would  convey  to 
her. 

"  What  did  he  say  1 "  asked  Blane. 

"  It  isn't  a  he.  It  is  a  she ;  a  nice-looking  old  lady,  with 
silvery  hair  coming  long  down  each  side  of  her  face,  and  rather 
a  large  nose.  What? — listening  for  a  moment  to  some  in- 
audible statement  by  the  invisible  visitor.  Oh  I  she  says  her  boy 
Arthur  ought  to  know  who  she  is." 

"Why,  that  is  a  description  of  my  mother,"  said  the 
Professor. 

*'  That's  who  she  is.  And  she  made  me  laugh  by  saying 
what  the  Baron  said  just  now  was  stuff  o'  nonsense." 

*'  When  did  she  die  1 "  Mrs.  Miller  asked  of  the  Professor. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby ;  "  she'll  tell  us  her- 
self. Eh  ? — "  Again  after  a  little  pause  she  broke  out  laugh- 
ing. "She  is  an  old  lady  with  a  character,  it  seems.  She 
says — *  Tell  her  she's  a  good  deal  more  dead  herself  than  I  am.* 
And  then — what  1  eh  ?  She  says  she  left  our  stupid  earth-life 
when  Margaret's  last  child  was  bom.     Who's  Margaret  ?  " 

"  A  married  sister  of  mine,"  said  the  Professor.  **  That  is 
quite  right     It's  about  ten  years  since  my  mother  died." 

V  2 


180  KABMA. 

*' "Would  yon  ask  her,**  suggested  the  Baron,  "to  tell  ns 
Bomething  about  the  occupations  of  her  present  existence." 

"  She  does  not  seem  to  hear  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby. 
••Am  I  to  ask  her  that r' 

"  Yes." 

After  a  short  pause,  during  which  Mrs.  Lakesby  did  not 
speak  aloud,  she  said — 

"  She  says  that  she's  very  happy ;  but  she  cannot  stop  to 
talk  any  longer  now.  Some  other  time  she'll  come  and  tell  us 
more.  Now  she  must  be  going.  She  says  there's  somebody 
here  ruakes  her  uncomfortable." 

"  Perhaps  that  may  be  myself,"  said  the  Baron.  *'  Let  me 
leave  you  for  a  few  minutes.  Since  you  are  having  this  con- 
versation it  will  be  as  well  for  you  to  follow  it  out  a  little 
further." 

The  Baron  went  in  through  the  open  glass-door  into  the 
dining-hall,  and  crossed  to  the  library  at  the  other  end,  into 
which  room  he  passed  and  shut  the  door. 

"  Will  you  ask  her,"  said  the  Professor,  "  if  she  has  any 
special  communication  to  make  to  me,  that  she  has  come  here 
to-night  1 " 

"  She  seems  puzzled  rather.  No  ;  she  says  she  has  nothing 
special  to  say.  She  is  often  about  you  without  your  knowing 
it.  She  was  alwaj^s  proud  of  you,  she  says — you  were  her 
favourite  child.  Eh  1— what? — Yes;  she  says  there  is  some- 
thing she  wants  to  say.  The  only  truth  about  the  spirit-life  is 
to  be  found  in  occult  study.  That's  funny.  It  does  not  quite 
square  with  what  she  said  just  now,  when  she  called  the  Baron's 
remarks  '  stuff  o'  nonsense.' " 

"  It's  aU  a  great  mystery,"  she  says ;  "  but  we  shall  all  lind 
it  out  some  day,  when  we  join  her  world.  She's  going  now, 
I  don't  see  her  any  more." 

Almost  immediately  afterwards  they  heard  the  library-door 
open.  The  Baron  crossed  the  dining-hall,  carrying  a  piece  of 
paper  in  his  hand.  A  few  words  were  written  on  it — the  ink 
still  wet.     He  handed  it  to  the  Professor. 

"  Was  not  that  what  she  said  while  I  was  away  ? " 

The  paper  bore  the  words  that  Mrs.  Lakesby  had  just  re- 
peated :  "  The  only  truth  about  the  spirit-life  is  to  be  found  in 
occult  study."  It  was  handed  round  and  looked  at  with  much 
Interest 


A  NEW   OPENING.  181 

••Why,  how  on  earth,"  asked  Mrs.  Miller,  ••did  you  know 
what  she  said  ? " 

**I  merely  knew  what  she  would  say  hecause  I  took  the 
liherty  of  suggesting  the  words  to  her — from  where  I  sat  in  the 
other  room,  I  mean.  The  distance  was  not  very  great  for  a 
thought  to  traverse.  The  incident  illustrates  what  we  were 
talking  about  a  little  while  ago — the  deceptiveness  of  appear- 
ances on  what  occult  writers  generally  call  the  astral  plane — 
the  border-land  of  the  spiritual  world  immediately  in  contact 
with  the  physical  world.  At  one  moment  you  see  an  inhabitant 
announcing,  in  very  definite  language,  that  a  certain  set  of  ideas 
is  all  nonsense,  and  the  next  that  they  are  the  only  truth, 
"What  are  we  to  make  of  that  ? " 

**  I  don't  know,"  said  the  Professor ;  "  it  is  very  puzzling." 

"  I  think  it  harmonizes  with  what  we  may  find  out  in  other 
ways  about  the  processes  of  human  evolution  which  go  on  after 
the  death  of  the  physical  body.  The  true  growth  of  the  real 
Ego  is  into  a  plane  of  consciousness  superior  to  that  which  Mrs. 
Lakesby's  clairvoyant  sight  penetrates  ;  and  in  exact  proportion 
to  the  extent  that  growth  has  proceeded,  the  faculties  and 
thinking  power  of  the  entity  on  the  astral  plane  are  weakened 
till  at  last  they  fade  out  altogether.  That  which  Mrs.  Lakesby 
just  now  saw  was,  in  a  certain  sense,  the  soul  of  your  mother 
most  likely ;  but  it  was  the  soul  minus  all  its  higher  faculties 
— or,  more  correctly,  an  astral  body  but  half  illuminated  by  the 
soul  which  is  gradually  passing  away  from  it  into  a  higher  state 
of  existence.  The  faculties  which  still  animate  it  are  not  con- 
scious of  the  loss  of  their  nobler  companions :  but  meanwhile, 
to  any  one  who  really  appreciates  the  position,  there  is  some- 
thing very  distressing  in  the  notion  of  dealing  with  an  entity 
in  that  condition,  as  if  it  were  a  true  soul — of  treating  it 
with  the  tenderness  due  to  the  real  Ego  of  a  departed 
friend." 

"  It's  very  interesting  all  the  same,"  urged  the  Professor. 

"That's  right,  Professor,"  said  Mrs  Lakesby;  "put  in  a 
word  for  poor  little  me." 

"  It  cannot  keep  up  its  interest  for  very  long,  it  seems  to  me, 
when  we  fuUy  realize  what  it  is  we  are  talking  with.  But, 
apart  from  that,  you  must  remember  that  when  I  have  humbly 
ventured  to  suggest  to  Mrs.  Lakesby  that  she  should  indulge 
but  sparingly  in  conversation  with  astral  spectres,  I  go  upon 


182  KABMA. 

other  grounds.     In  doing  that,  Mrs.  Lakesby,  to  begin  with, 

may  retard  the  spiritual  progress  of  the  real  Ego  by  dragging 
back  his  attention  to  the  earthly  existence  he  has  quitted,  and 
she  may  lay  herself  open  to  influences  from  the  astral  world 
that  may  prey  upon  her  unexpectedly." 

"  It's  a  golden  rule,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby,  in  a  stage- 
aside,  to  Mrs.  ^liller,  "  when  you're  being  scolded  never  defend 
yourself.     It  only  brings  on  fresh  trouble." 

The  Professor  intervened  with  the  fatherly  manner  in  which 
he  sometimes  wrapped  up  his  compliments  to  ladies. 

"  Mrs.  Lakesby  will  never  grow  up.  She'll  remain  a  child  to 
the  end  of  the  chapter,  but  so  sweet  a  child  that  nobody  will 
complain." 

"  I  haven't  the  least  doubt,"  Blane  interposed,  "  that  the 
Baron  speaks  from  knowledge,  and  the  principle  he  lays  down 
must  be  sound.  But  I  would  like  to  ask  one  thing — I  don't 
ask  it  in  any  ribald  spirit  of  mockery,  but  sincerely  for  infor- 
mation. If  a  person  with  clairvoyant  gifts  is  debasing  them,  as 
we  have  sometimes  agreed,  by  employing  them  in  what  Mrs. 
Lakesby  calls  poking  about  other  people's  rooms  and  houses, — 
and  if  she  is  running  risks  herself,  and  perhaps  doing  wrong  in 
employing  them  on  the  phenomena  of  the  astral  world, — what  is 
she  to  do  with  them  ? " 

Some  of  them  laughed  at  the  apparent  dilemma,  as  the  Baron 
did  himself,  but  Mrs.  Lakesby  affected  dismay. 

"  Oh,  save  me  from  my  friends  !  You  meant  well,  Mr. 
Blane,  but  now  I'm  going  to  catch  it  you  see ! " 

The  Baron  shook  his  head.  "  She'd  be  a  very  difficult  person 
to  find  fault  with — Mrs.  Lakesby  would  be — for  everybody's 
sympathies  would  be  with  her,  whatever  the  case  might  be. 
But,  happily,  I  am  not  called  upon  to  attempt  anytliing  so 
presumptuous.  I  would  merely  explain  that  there  is  a  third 
course,  though  no  one  can  be  blamed  for  not  taking  it  if  they 
do  not  feel  strongly  moved  to  do  so.  There  is  the  service  of 
the  great  cause  and  of  the  great  work  I  humbly  represent  in 
your  eyes,  to  which  any  persons  abnormally  gifted  with  psychic 
faculties  from  birth,  may,  with  peculiar  propriety,  devote  them- 
selves. The  rewards  of  that  service  are  seldom  to  be  gathered 
in  this  life,  but  they  are  great  nevertheless.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  service  itself  is  apt  to  be  very  arduous  and  unattrac- 


A   NEW   OPENING.  183 

tlve  in  the  beginning,  and,  even  for  a  long  while,  to  grow  more 
and  more  arduous  as  time  goes  on." 

"  What  is  the  difference,  may  I  inquire,  sir  1 "  Merland 
asked,  "  between  the  career  open  to  a  person  with  psychic  gifts, 
in  connection  with  the  occult  life,  and  that  which  may  lie  before 
one  who  has  no  gifts,  merely  ardour  and  devotion  to  the 
cause  ? " 

There  was  no  room  to  doubt  the  personal  bearing  of  Merland's 
question.  His  inclination  to  enter  himself,  so  far  as  that  could 
be  done,  as  a  candidate  for  occult  instruction  had  been  aug- 
menting rather  than  declining  during  the  last  few  days.  While 
love  for  Miss  Yaughan  gilded  the  prospect  the  avenues  of  occult 
study  seemed  as  enticing  as  they  were  ennobling.  Now,  indeed, 
the  situation  was  changed.  No  sun  would  shine  on  the  young 
man's  path  in  whatever  direction  he  might  seek  it,  but  if  the 
catastrophe  in  the  conservatory  had  destroyed  his  hope  of 
happiness  in  ordinary  life,  at  least  it  left  him  sadly  free  to 
plunge  into  the  only  refuge  he  could  see  open  before  him.  And 
the  darkly  romantic  aspect  of  the  occult  life  as  it  sometimes 
presented  itself  to  his  imagination,  made  it  an  appropriate  des- 
tiny for  a  man  who  felt  that  he  had  staked  more  than  is  gene 
rally  risked  on  a  declaration  of  love.  Perhaps  other  young  men 
have  sometimes  viewed  their  declarations  in  that  light  also. 
Anyhow  Merland  measured  the  severity  of  his  fall  by  the  merits 
of  Lucy  Vaughan,  and  these  were  naturally  exalted  in  his  eyes 
to  a  very  high  degree. 

Nothing  had  been  heard  at  the  castle  from  Miss  Vaughan  or 
her  mother  since  they  left  it.  A  faint  hope  had  lingered  in 
Merland's  mind  for  a  little  while,  that  perhaps  the  post  would 
bring  him  a  communication  on  the  subject  of  the  question 
that  had  remained  unanswered.  If  only  she  would  write  to 
explain  in  a  sympathetic  way  that  the  thing  could  not  be, 
that  would  be  something.  But  no.  His  proposal  had  been 
a  piece  of  impertinent  extravagance,  and  had  been  treated  as 
such  very  properly.  No  one  at  the  castle  had  any  exact 
knowledge  on  the  subject,  and  Merland  was  shy  about 
asking  questions  that  would  have  been  too  suggestive ;  but  Mrs. 
Miller  had  let  fall  the  remark  once,  in  speaking  of  Mise 
Vaughan,  that  some  one  had  said  she  was  going  to  marry  Lord 
MiUborough. 


184  EAEMA. 

"  If  I  had  known  it  sooner,"  Merland  thouglit  to  himself, 
'*  I  might  not  have  made  such  a  fool  of  myself ;  but  thrown 
with  her  as  I  was,  I  should  not  have  loved  her  the  less,  so  it 
would  have  been  the  same  in  the  long  run." 

"When  he  asked  the  question  set  down  above,  as  to  how 
far  a  person  without  psychic  gifts  to  start  with  could  get  on 
in  the  occult  life,  the  Baron  looked  at  him  with  a  kindly 
expression  for  a  few  seconds  without  speaking,  and  then 
said, — 

**  One  should  never  persuade  a  neophyte  to  enter  on  the  path. 
One  must  not  make  the  career  seem  pleasant  or  easy ;  but  it  is 
a  stout  and  pure  heart  only  that  is  wanted  for  success,  not 
psychic  gifts  at  first.  They  may  not  so  much  help  their 
possessor  as  render  him  or  her  more  useful  to  others.  And 
the  privilege  of  being  useful  is  a  grand  one,  quite  apart  from 
reward.  Then  you  must  remember  that  ordinary  thinking  has 
not  yet  been  sufficiently  penetrated  with  the  idea  about  suc- 
cessive incarnations  to  let  people  get  on  the  right  train  of 
thought  in  such  matters.  You  cannot  estimate  your  position 
in  reference  to  the  occult  life  aright  unless  you  know  something 
of  your  previous  incarnations." 

"  But,  good  heavens  !  "  cried  the  Professor,  jumping  at  this 
hint,  *'  do  I  understand  you  that  we  can  anyhow  get  at  informa- 
tion about  our  previous  incarnations  1  "VMiy,  it  would  be  of 
all  other  information  that  could  be  obtained,  the  most  pricelessly 
interesting  " 

"  Why  so  t "  said  the  Baron,  gravely — almost  reproachfully. 
•*  Except  for  the  purpose  I  referred  to,  I  am  not  sure  if  know- 
ledge about  one's  previous  incarnations  could  have  any  other 
effect  than  that  of  feeding  personal  vanity,  and  so  doing  one 
the  worst  possible  service.  It  is  to  escape  from  interest  in 
self  that  the  student  of  occult  mysteries  should,  above  all 
things,  address  himself." 

"  Well,  but  really,  that  morality  is  of  a  very  high — almost 
an  impracticably  high — order.  We  are  human  creatures,  and 
the  constant  shiver  of  doubt  about  the  future  that  so  many  of 
us  have,  is  just  because  we  cannot  remember  the  past  Now 
if  we  could  be  enabled  to  do  that — " 

"  J,  for  one,"  said  Blane,  "  should  not  want  to  exercise  the 
privilege.  I  quite  see  the  force  of  the  Baron's  remarks,  except 
that  I  would  go  further  and  say,  that  the  escape  from  self 


A  NEW  OPENING.  185 

would  be  the  most  delightful  emancipation  that  oould  be 
imagined.  To  forget  my  present  life,  I  think,  would  be  more 
tempting  than  to  remember  previous  ones." 

A  good  deal  of  animated  controversy  in  which  the  Baron 
took  but  a  trifling  part  arose  over  this  point.  At  last  Mer- 
land  tried  to  bring  the  conversation  back  to  the  point  from 
which  it  had  suddenly  diverged. 

"  You  will  remember.  Baron,  it  was  a  question  of  mine  that 
set  them  aU  on  this  subject.  Kow,  if  knowing  something 
about  my  past  would  help  me  to  find  out,  or  you  to  teU  me, 
what  my  own  chances  would  be  as  an  occult  student — is  there 
any  way  of  finding  out  about  it  ? " 

**  Well,"  said  the  Baron,  all  voices  being  stilled  at  once  as 
his  tone  and  manner  seemed  encouraging,  "there  might  be 
ways  of  getting  at  some  inklings  about  it ;  and  that  answer 
may,  perhaps,  meet  another  point  that  Mr.  Blane  raised  a  little 
while  ago,  as  to  what  might  be  done  with  clairvoyance  directed 
neither  to  physical  objects  at  a  distance,  nor  to  the  delusive 
appearances  of  the  astral  plane.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Lakesby  might 
be  able  to  discern  some  pictures  in  the  astral  light  for  us  that 
would  prove  interesting  in  regard  to  this  matter  of  past 
incarnations  that  some  of  us  have  had  something  to  do 
with." 

"We  are  constantly  happening  on  new  surprises,"  the 
Professor  said.  "  It  appears,  Mrs.  Lakesby,  that  there  is  a 
whole  realm  of  nature  open  to  your  observation,  that  as  yet 
you  have  told  us  nothing  about." 

Mrs.  Lakesby  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  in  mock 
despair.  "  Poor,  poor,  Mrs.  Lakesby  ! "  she  said,  commiserating 
her  own  fate,  "  pile  all  the  blame  on  her  first,  of  course,  but 
kindly  explain  for  her  future  guidance  what  on  earth  you  are 
talking  about." 

"  Will  somebody,"  said  the  Professor,  administer  nourish- 
ment to  her  through  a  quill,  and  restore  her  strength?  My 
dear  child,  we  are  to  blame  for  forgetting  that  there  was  a 
mystery  we  had  not  asked  you  to  solve.  We  are  all  gratitude 
for  past  favours  and  equally  so  for  those  to  come.  But  this 
being  premised,  teU  us  the  state  of  the  case.  Can  you  by  the 
exercise  of  clairvoyance  perceive  the  circumstances  of  people's 
former  lives  1 " 

**  HOf  oi  course  not  1 "  cried  the  lady. 


186  KABMA. 

The  Baron  sat  by  with  an  amused  smile.  The  Professor 
looked  with  perplexity  at  Blane. 

"  But,  my  dear  Agatha,"  said  Mrs.  Miller — for  in  the 
intimacy  that  was  growing  up  between  them  a  use  of  Christian 
names  was  creeping  in — "  the  Baron  has  distinctly  referred  us 
to  you  for  information,  so  you  must  rub  your  eyes  and  look 
again." 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  the  Baron  what  he  means ;  I  can't  tell 
you,  for  I  haven't  the  least  idea  myself." 

"  May  we  recur  to  you,  then  ? "  asked  the  Professor  of  their 
host. 

**  Even  if  Mrs.  Lakesby,"  he  answered,  "  is  not  fully  con- 
scious of  all  the  uses  to  which  her  faculties  can  be  applied, 
that  need  hardly  surprise  any  of  us.  But  I  did  not  intend  to 
convey  the  notion  that  any  clairvoyant  search  into  the  past 
would  enable  her  to  give  any  person,  now  living,  a  complete 
and  connected  narrative  of  his  past  lives.  A  very  exalted  kind 
of  insight  would  be  required  to  achieve  that  result.  But  I 
think  I  could  suggest  to  her  ways  and  means  of  obtaining,  at 
any  rate,  some  glimpses  of  the  past  that  would  be  sufficient  to 
interest  you  very  much  if  you  are  content  in  the  matter  to  seek, 
in  this  inquiry,  some  comprehension  of  the  Karmic  principle  in 
operation,  rather  than  the  gratification  of  a  mere  personal 
curiosity." 

"  I  am  sure,"  Blane  murmured,  "  I  have  no  personal  curiosity 
about  myself — a  most  uninteresting  topic" 

"  I  have  a  great  deal  of  personal  curiosity,"  said  the  Pro- 
fessor, cheerily  and  frankly,  "  but  I  am  quite  ready  to  put  that 
altogether  aside.  All  fresh  knowledge  is  delightful,  and  I 
should  certainly  be  the  last  person  to  be  indifi'erent  to  an 
opportunity  for  studying  Karma  merely  because  it  was  not  an 
opportunity  for  studying  something  else.  Chalk  out  our  line 
of  inquiry,  dear  Baron  Friedrich,  and  trust  to  us  to  follow  it  the 
best  way  we  know  how." 

*'  It  is  only,  it  seems  to  me,"  replied  the  Baron,  "  for  the  sake 
of  discerning  the  way  in  which  Karma  operates  that  such  an 
effort  as  that  I  have  suggested  appears  desirable,  or  even 
justifiable.  You  see,  the  law  of  Karma  is  almost  the  leading 
law  of  human  evolution — if  one  can  be  allowed  to  give 
precedence  to  on©  over  another  of  the  beautiful  harmonies  of 
nature.     Every  man  is  perpetually  working  out  old   Karma, 


A   NEW   OPENINO.  187 

and  developing  fresh.  This  is  merely  a  technical  way  of  saying 
that  every  man  is  the  product  of  the  influences,  aspirations, 
thoughts,  efforts,  and  so  on,  that  have  moulded  his  character  in 
the  past,  and  is,  in  turn — by  the  direction  in  which  he  allows 
his  energies  to  operate — moulding  that  which  will  be  his  own 
character  in  the  future.  But,  while  the  principle  stated  in 
that  way  seems  to  be  little  more  than  a  commonplace,  ib  rises 
into  wholly  different  importance  when  we  resolutely  apply  it  to 
the  whole  series  of  human  lives  which  constitute  an  in- 
dividuality— a  true  human  Ego — apart  from  the  transitory 
circumstances  of  particular  years. 

"People  often  say  nobody  can  alter  their  character  very 
much  ;  what  he  is  born  with  he  must  make  the  best  of,  and  his 
moral  responsibility  greatly  varies  accordingly — and  so  forth. 
They  forget— or  rather  their  speculation  is  not  brightened  by 
the  illuminating  truth  to  which  occult  science  introduces  us 
— ^that  every  one  has  an  immensely  long  succession  of  oppor- 
tunities for  modifying  his  character ;  and  that  the  point  at 
which  he  leaves  off  in  the  one  life,  is  the  point  at  which  he 
takes  up  those  opportunities  in  the  next.  A  great  interval  of 
time,  as  we  measure  time  here,  may  have  elapsed  between  the 
end  of  the  one  life  and  the  beginning  of  the  next ;  but  that 
does  not  in  the  least  degree  interfere  with  the  unity  of  the  life 
process.  That  interval  is  very  far  indeed  from  being  a  blank 
period.  It  is  filled  with  a  life  of  its  own,  far  more  vivid,  and 
for  the  most  part,  happily,  more  enjoyable,  in  an  exalted  sense, 
than  the  physical  periods  of  life.  But  for  our  present  purpose 
we  need  not  pay  attention  to  that,  except  to  recognize  that  it 
explains  what  would  otherwise  be  a  mystery — the  obliteration 
from  the  mind  before  each  fresh  life  begins,  of  all  precise  recol- 
lection concerning  the  outward  circumstances  of  the  last  phy- 
sical life.  The  spiritual  existence  which  intervenes  between 
each  physical  life  has  the  effect  of  summing  up  the  whole  body 
of  experiences — effort,  aspiration,  and  so  on — of  the  one  life 
into  so  much  formed  character  with  which  the  Ego  starts  on 
his  next." 

"But,  Baron  Friedrich,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  "I  thought  your 
Karma  was  your  reward  or  punishment  in  the  next  life  for  what 
you  did — good  or  bad — in  this  1 " 

"  And  so  it  is ;  not  a  reward  or  punishment  that  can  possibly 
be  wrongly  adjusted  by  reason  of  being  served  out  as  such.     It 


188  KAEMA. 

1b  a  perfectly  inevitable  series  of  consequences.  Tour  Karma 
determines  the  state  of  life  into  which  you  will  be  bora,  as  well 
as  your  character." 

"  Then,"  suggested  Blane,  "  I  should  be  inclined  to  fear  that 
your  Karma  goes  very  far  towards  determining  what  your  Karma 
itself  will  be  at  the  end  of  each  life ;  for,  given  a  character  and 
a  set  of  circumstances,  and  I  suppose,  to  an  omniscient  eye,  the 
result  would  be  inevitable  1 " 

"  To  an  omniscient  eye,  yes.  I  suppose  one  would  have  to 
recognize  that ;  but  then  I  doubt  if  the  discussion  we  are  now 
carrying  on  is  on  what  may  be  called  the  plane  of  omniscience. 
We  should  not  help  ourselves  much  by  going  off  here  into  a 
survey  of  the  old  conflict  between  free-will  and  necessity.  "We 
have  a  very  distinct  consciousness  of  free-will  in  the  choice 
between  good  and  evil  at  every  step  through  life  ;  and  we  need 
not  confuse  our  sense  of  that  freedom  by  going  into  the  highest 
metaphysics  of  the  problem." 

"  But  the  problem  has  a  practical  bearing/'  said  the  Professor, 
"  as  well  as  a  metaphysical  aspect.  It  often  strikes  me  that 
the  limits  of  our  power  to  choose  between  different  courses  in 
life  are  very  narrow,  apart  altogether  from  the  metaphysical 
argument.  There  you  are,  with  your  character,  whatever  it 
may  be,  inherited  from  your  parents,  or  got  at  somehow,  estab- 
lished as  a  very  commanding  impulse  in  your  nature.  And  the 
circumstances  in  which  you  are  placed,  are  there  also  with  no 
choice  of  yours.  How  can  a  man  help  following  the  bent  of 
his  nature  1  If  he  is  of  a  scrupulous,  cautious  habit  of  mind, 
that  is  his  nature  ;  and  in  splitting  hairs  as  he  goes  along  he  is 
but  following  its  bent.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he  is  a  very 
warm-blooded  impulsive  sort  of  animal,  with  strong  feelings, 
there  you  are  again.  He  never  remembers  to  think  attthe 
critical  moments,  but  acts  first  and  thinks  afterwards,  and  that 
is  his  bent." 

*'  That,  my  dear  Professor,  if  you  will  allow  me,"  said  th6 
Baron  "  is  his  Karma.  Of  course,  it  is  a  very  difficult  thing 
to  escape  from  its  influence — in  one  sense  impossible,  but  Karma 
is  a  growing  force,  and  our  free-wiU  does  enable  us  to  modify 
its  growth ;  and  your  bent,  depend  upon  it,  in  the  next  life, 
will  be  either  still  more  defined  in  its  present  direction,  or 
inclining  in  a  different  direction  according  to  whether  in  thia 


▲  NEW  OPENING.  189 

you  yield  to  It  without  resistance  or  press  against   its  in- 
fluence." 

"  But,  Baron  Friedrich,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  "  how  are  yon  to 
get  rewarded  or  punished  merely  by  developing  a  bent  'i  Your 
bent  might  be  worse  thaik  ever ;  but  if  you  had  been  ill  and 
poor  and  badly  used  in  the  last  life,  and  were  well  and  comfort- 
able, and  made  much  of  next  time,  you  would  have  got  a 
reward." 

"  Well,"  answered  the  Baron,  **  let  us  work  this  out  a  little. 
What  do  you  call  the  fate  that  determines  whether  you  are 
born  rich  or  poor,  healthy  or  ill,  clever  or  stupid,  and  so  on  1 " 

"  How  do  you  mean  'i  I  suppose  that  is  all  the  accident  of 
birth  r' 

"  But  suppose  the  accident  of  birth  is  no  accident  at  all,  but 
just  an  inevitable  result  of  causes,  attractions,  affinities,  set  up 
by  an  Ego,  during  his  last  life,  which  impel  him,  when  he  is 
ripe  for  rebirth,  to  that  incarnation  which  is  best  fitted  to  give 
them  physical  expression.  What  do  you  call  the  accident  of 
birth  looked  at  from  the  point  of  view  of  that  hypothesis  ? " 

"  Ah  ! "  murmured  Blane,  **  Karma  :  I  see  the  principle.  It 
covers  everything." 

"  Pretty  nearly,"  said  the  Baron.  "  Fully  appreciated  it 
would  no  doubt  be  found  to  cover  a  great  many  of  the  most 
painful  riddles  of  the  earth,  and  the  whole  vast  series  of 
inequalities  in  well-being  that  sometimes  puzzle  us." 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  said  the  Professor  after  a  little  pause ; 
"  there  are  aspects  of  that  doctrine  in  which  it  does  not  strike 
me  as  very  moral  in  its  bearing.  It  would  be  apt  to  make 
people  rather  pitiless  towards  suffering.  They  would  tell  a 
beggar  to  be  off,  and  be  ashamed  of  himself  for  having  had 
such  an  infamous  Karma  in  his  last  Ufe." 

"Do  you  think  that  would  be  the  effect,"  asked  the  Baron, 
significantly,  **  if  such  people  realized  that  being  rough  and  piti- 
less to  suffering  might  be  one  of  the  elements  in  Karma  which 
would  bring  such  suffering  on  themselves  next  time  1 " 

The  objection  and  the  answer  both  in  turn  seemed  so  forcible 
that  they  all  laughed. 

"The  Baron  had  you  there.  Professor,"  said  Mrs.  Miller. 
"  You'll  be  afraid  to  let  a  beggar  pass  within  sight  in  future 
without  rushing  after  him  to  give  him  sixpence." 


13 


190  EABMA. 

"  Dear  lady,*  retorted  the  Professor,  **your  otherwise  perfect 
sex  will  raiely  keep  to  abstractioris.  My  Karma  is  altogether 
too  bad  to  be  worth  mending  or  thinking  about ;  so  never  mind 
that." 

"  There  is  a  striking  inference  to  be  drawn  from  this,  is  there 
not  1 "  suggested  Blane ;  "  that  the  act  of  relieving  suffering 
contracts  the  domain  of  suffering  both  here  and  hereafter,  both 
as  regards  the  recipient  of  relief  and  the  agent  in  conferring 
relief ;  while  cruelty  and  callousness  to  suffering  augments  it  in 
both  directions." 

'*  Just  so,"  said  the  Baron  ;  **  and  we  need  only  supplement 
that  reflection,  I  think,  in  one  way.  We  must  not  think  of 
the  rewards  of  good  Karma  as  concentrated  too  much  on 
material  things.  The  opportunities  of  spiritual  development, 
which  a  poor  and  even  a  sorrowful  man  may  enjoy  in  any  given 
life,  may  benefit  him  in  the  long-run  so  greatly  as  to  have  out- 
weighed the  evil  of  transitory  sorrows  ;  and  a  good  Karma  may 
thus  sometimes  have  produced  a  life  the  mere  outward  troubles 
of  which  we  should  sometimes  be  apt,  if  we  were  hasty,  to  set 
down  to  bad  Karma.  Vice  versd,  also,  the  bad  Karma  may 
temporarily  disguise  its  effect  in  physical  prosperity  that  may 
bring  great  suffering  in  its  train  in  the  long  run,  by  furnishing 
the  possessor  with  so  many  more  opportunities  of  emphasizing 
what  the  Professor  might  call  an  evil  bent." 

"  It  would  be  an  intricate  problem  then,"  suggested  the 
Professor,  "  but  still  a  possible  problem,  to  work  back  from  the 
circumstances  of  a  man's  life,  plus  his  character,  and  determine 
what  must  have  been  the  nature  of  his  last  incarnation." 

"  A  supremely  intricate  problem,  certainly,  for  any  one  who 
could  not  enjoy  such  help  as  Mrs.  Lakesby,  perhaps,  might 
give." 

"  Oh,  good  gracious  !  "  ejaculated  the  lady  named,  who  had 
been  following  the  conversation  with  the  closest  interest,  but 
started  in  apprehension  at  being  thus  suddenly  brought  back 
into  its  focus. 

"  This  promises  to  be  most  interesting,  I  see  now,"  cried  the 
Professor.  "  Mrs.  Lakesby's  clairvoyance  in  some  way  may  be 
directed  to  check  the  conclusions  we  form  as  we  proceed  with 
the  examination  of  any  Karma  we  take  up  for  analysis." 

"  Now  then,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  "  who  offers  himself  for  vivi- 
section t    I  offer  Jem.'' 


A  NEW  OPENINO.  191 

"  Jem  is  likely  to  have  pressing  business  in  Schlessig,"  said 
Captain  Miller ;  '*  besides,  there's  nothing  to  analyze  in  Jem. 
He  hasn't  got  any  Karma  yet.  A  very  much  more  interesting 
subject,  I'm  sure,  would  be  found  in  the  Professor." 

"  Place  mvx  dames^^  said  the  Professor.  "  Perhaps  Mrs. 
Lakesby  would  tell  us  something  about  her  own  past  lives,  and 
then  we  might  find  out  what  sort  of  Karma  produces  psychic 
gifts." 

Mrs.  Lakesby  gave  a  little  shriek  at  the  proposal. 

"  Cut  up  myself  for  your  edification.  Thank  you  kindly  for 
the  idea,  but,  if  I  am  to  wield  the  knife,  though  I  do  not  at 
present  know  in  the  least  how  that  is  to  be  done,  I  don't  think 
it  will  be  employed  upon  myself.  I  don't  know  much  about 
the  matter  yet,  but  I  know  that  much." 

"  This  is  false  modesty,  dear  lady,"  said  the  Professor,  "  I 
assure  you.  I  have  no  objection  to  be  investigated  myself — 
nor  I  am  sure  would  Blane  have,  as  far  as  he  is  concerned." 

"  I  don't  think,"  the  Baron  interrupted,  "  that  we  need  carry 
on  the  discussion  on  these  lines,  because  I  don't  think  we  should 
begin  by  trying  to  lay  bare  the  characteristics  of  any  one  among 
us.  Would  it  not  be  better,  suppose  we  can  manage  this,  to 
get  from  Mrs.  Lakesby  certain  glimpses  of  past  scenes  in  which 
some  of  us  or  of  our  friends  not  actually  here  at  this  moment 
may  have  played  a  part,  and  then  endeavour  to  interpret  these, 
to  trace,  as  far  as  we  can,  the  natural  progress  of  persons  with 
such  and  such  characteristics,  and  then  to  see  whether  we  can 
discern  the  old  Karma  working  afresh  in  modern  conditions  % " 

Every  one  present  was  of  course  more  than  ready  to  follow  a 
programme  distinctly  suggested  by  the  Baron,  and  the  comments 
on  this  proposal  were  merely  directed  to  the  clear  comprehen- 
sion of  the  line  to  be  followed.  It  was  arranged  that  Mrs. 
Lakesby  should  recline  at  ease  on  a  small  sofa  that  was  brought 
out  on  to  the  terrace  from  the  drawing-room ;  and,  though  the 
evening  was  not  at  all  cold,  the  Baron  expressed  a  wish  that  a 
warm  shawl  should  be  thrown  over  her. 

"  I'm  going  like  a  lamb  to  the  sacrifice ;  but  I  haven't  a 
notion,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby,  while  she  was  being  carefully 
tended  on  all  sides,  and  caressed  by  Mrs.  ^liller,  "what  I'm 
expected  to  do.  I  don't  believe  I  shall  see  anything  at  all.  I 
never  was  so  dull  before.  Since  the  Professor's  mother  went 
away  I  haven't  seen  a  creature." 


192  KAEMA. 

"The  calm  way  she  Ignores  us  is  charming,'*  remarked  the 
Professor.     "  Plain  mortals  in  the  flesh  don't  count." 

"  If  yon  do  see  anything,"  said  the  Baron,  "  you  can  tell  them. 
For  myself  I  want  to  go  away  if  you  will  allow  me  when  I  have 
once  set  you  to  work." 

This  announcement  took  every  one  by  surprise,  but  no 
objection  was  raised,  as  every  one  felt  instinctively  that  the 
Baron's  withdrawal  would  in  some  mysterious  way  be  associated 
with  whatever  it  might  be  that  was  going  to  happen. 

"  When  Mrs.  Lakesby  begins  to  see,'*  the  Baron  went  on, 
"  she  may  become  very  much  absorbed  in  the  interest  of  her 
visions,  and  I  think  it  will  be  better  then  that  only  one  person 
among  you  should  address  her  questions  relating  to  these.  I 
daresay  you  will  all  agree  to  let  the  Professor  do  this,  but  there 
is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  quietly  suggest  questions  to 
him." 

A  few  words  of  acquiescence  were  uttered  in  reply  by  Blane 
and  Mrs.  Miller,  and  the  Baron  said  good-night  in  case  he 
might  not  see  them  again  that  evening,  and  went  away. 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

nOTURES  IN  THB  ASTRAL  LIGHT. 

A  HUSH  of  expectancy  settled  over  the  whole  party,  and  for  a 
little  while  nothing  was  said.  The  Professor  had  taken  a  low 
chair  beside  Mrs.  Lakesby's  sofa — the  others  had  all  resumed 
or  replaced  their  seats  after  the  general  movement  incidental  to 
the  Baron's  departure ;  and  the  darkness  of  the  night — now 
that  a  shaded  lamp  which  had  been  standing  on  the  terrace- 
table  had  been  taken  into  the  drawing-room — gave  a  touch  of 
Bolemnity  to  the  preparations.  It  was  not  very  dark,  as  a 
crescent  moon  was  shining  in  the  sky,  though  concealed  from 
the  terrace  by  the  main  body  of  the  castle,  and  the  stars  were 
bright.  Enough  light  to  make  the  terrace  itself  and  all  the 
persons  upon  it  plainly  visible  came  from  the  windows  of  the 
dia wing-room ;  but  the  broad  expanse  of  the  heavens  befoi* 


PI0TUEE8  m  THE   ASTRAL   LIGHT.  193 

Mrs.  Lakesby,  as  she  lay  with  her  face  looking  outward  over 
the  river,  and  her  back  to  the  house,  seemed  a  kind  of  pro- 
scenium before  which  they  were  all  seated. 

"  Will  she  see  her  visions  in  the  sky,  do  you  suppose ! "  Mrs. 
Miller  whispered  to  Blane,  who  was  sitting  next  to  her. 

"  She  isn't  in  quarantine  yet,"  said  the  clairvoyant  herself, 
in  her  natural  voice,  "at  all  events.  If  anything  begins  to 
happen  I'U  let  you  know ;  but  I'm  sure  I  need  not  be  sent  to 
Coventry  while  I'm  feeling  just  my  ordinary  self  as  I  do  now." 

"  Still,"  said  the  Professor,  "  it  may  be  that  you  had  better 
compose  yourself,  and  be  quiet  for  the  present." 

Scattered  fragments  of  conversation  of  this  kind  went  on  for 
some  little  while,  Mrs.  Lakesby  protesting  from  time  to  time 
against  the  notion  of  being  expected  to  do  something  without 
Imowiug  what  she  was  to  do,  and  the  Professor  pacifying  her 
by  soothing  words,  of  which  she  was  rather  disposed  to  make 
fun. 

"  Miss  Blane,"  she  said,  after  one  little  pause,  after  letting 
her  head  fall  back  on  the  sofa-cushion,  and  speaking  in  a  low, 
broken  kind  of  voice.  "Couldn't  you— would  you  perhaps 
sing  something  1 " 

"  Sing  1 "  repeated  Miss  Blane  dubiously,  wondering  whether 
music  for  some  mysterious  reason  was  required  by  Mrs.  Lakesby 
to  promote  her  expected  ecstasy.  "Singl"  to  Mrs.  Miller. 
"  What  does  she  want  me  to  sing,  I  wonder  f  " 

"  I  think,"  murmured  Mrs.  Lakesby  from  the  sofa,  "  I  should 
feel  better,"  with  a  deep  sigh,  "if  you  gave  us— *  Champagne 
Charlie  ! '  " — starting  up  at  the  last  words  with  a  merry  laugh. 

"  Oh !  child,  child  1  "  remonstrated  the  Professor,  "  will  you 
never  be  serious  ?  For  a  moment  you  took  us  in  completely. 
We  give  you  all  honour  and  glory  for  the  victory,  but — " 

"  Hush  !  "  interrupted  Mrs.  Lakesby,  in  quite  another  tone, 
but  still  sitting  up  on  her  sofa,  and  looking  eagerly  forward. 
**  Look  there  ;  why  surely  you  must  all  see  that." 

She  pointed  out  over  the  balustrade  of  the  terrace,  towards 
the  top  of  a  tree,  which,  standing  as  it  did  on  much  lower 
ground  than  the  castle — the  hall  falling  away  steeply  on  that 
side — was  about  on  a  level  with  the  pavement  on  which  they 
sat.  A  silvery  column  of  vapour,  and  yet  something  which 
as  they  watched  seemed  instinct  with  a  movement  of  its  own, 
and  to  gtow  more  into  the  likenesi  of  a  human  form,  floated 


194  KAEMA. 

over,  or  just  rested  as  a  cloud- wreath  may  rest  on  a  hill,  on  the 
topmost  twigs  of  the  tree.  All  present  were  equally  able  to  see 
it ;  the  distance  at  which  the  ethereal  figure  stood  was  about 
twenty  or  thirty  yards.  Presently  it  leaned  forward,  and  floating 
across  the  short  intervening  space  settled,  swaying  very  slightly 
from  side  to  side  as  though  stirred  by  a  faint  breeze,  upon  the 
furthest  end  of  the  balustrade  of  the  terrace  itself.  As  the  party 
happened  to  be  grouped  Mrs.  Lakesby  was  thus  between  the 
figure  and  the  group,  for  they  were  collected  at  the  left  end  of 
the  terrace,  looking  outward,  and  the  figure  appeared  at  the 
extreme  right  end.  That  it  was  distinctly  human  in  shape  and 
gesture  was  all  that  they  could  recognize.  The  form  was  too 
misty  and  spectral  to  exhibit  features  that  could  be  plainly 
identified  ;  but  Mrs.  Lakesby  gazed  intently  without  speaking, 
and  then  slowly  lay  back  on  her  cushions.  The  figure  advanced 
slowly  towards  the  group  along  the  edge  of  the  balustrade,  but 
grew  fainter  and  fainter  as  it  approached,  and  vanished  from 
view  altogether  when  about  at  right  angles  to  the  position 
occupied  by  Mrs.  Lakesby. 

"  Yes,  I'll  come,"  she  said,  rolling  her  head  a  little  from  side 
to  side  on  the  sofa-cushions  as  though  seeking  the  most  com- 
fortable position.  She  spoke  in  a  calm,  measured  voice,  slowly 
at  first,  but  more  firmly  and  easily  as  she  went  on.  "  Are  we 
going  a  long  way  ?  Oh,  that  we  are,  I  can  teU  you.  Why, 
this  is  another  country ;  it's  a  warm  country  this  is,  isn't  it  i 
I  haven't  been  here  before,  have  1 1  What  a  lot  of  ruins  there 
are  about."  After  a  little  pause,  "  Oh,  I  say,  what  a  curious 
efi'ect  that  is— I  like  to  see  that.  Why  should  I  say  what  I 
see  ?  You  can  see  it  too.  Very  well ;  I  will  if  you  like.  What 
looked  like  ruins  awhile  ago  seem  finished  buildings  now. 
This  is  the  street  of  a  town,  and  there  seem  to  be  a  quantity  of 
people  all  about — so  queerly  dressed  ;  some  few  in  long  white 
robes  all  folded  about  them  and  some  in  short  tunics  with  bare 
legs.  There  goes  a  man  carried  in  a  chair  by  several  others, 
and  men  walk  in  front  with  some  thick-shaped  weapon  carried 
leaning  against  their  shoulders.  \Yhere  does  he  go  ? — the  man 
in  the  chair  you  mean  ?  He's  been  put  down  at  a  house- door. 
There  are  a  lot  of  attendants  about.  It's  misty  to  me  for  a 
moment.  Oh,  now  I  can  see  inside  the  house  where  he  was 
put  down,  a  great  big  wandering  place  with  a  lot  of  rooms,  all 
on  one  floor.     I  see  such  a  lot  of  pillars ;  oh,  and  there's  the 


PICTURES   IN   THE    ASTRAL   LIGHT.  196 

man  who  was  in  the  chair,  with  several  others.  They  are  all 
lolling  on  sofas  round  a  table.  Why,  they  are  eating  and 
drinking.  Goodness,  what  a  quantity  of  food— dishes  and 
dishes  of  it  coming  in,  and  quantities  of  attendants.  What 
lazy  wretches  to  be  lying  down  eating  like  that,  with  their  great 
bare  feet  stretched  out  on  the  sofas  behind  them.  What's  that 
you  say  1  How  are  the  sofas  arranged  ?  Why  there  are  three 
of  them  round  three  sides  of  the  table,  and  the  fourth  side  is 
towards  the  door,  where  the  dishes  keep  coming  in." 

"  Good  Heavens  !  "  said  the  Professor  softly,  as  Mrs.  Lakesby 
paused  in  her  description.  "  Why,  she's  describing  a  Roman 
banquet." 

"  They  keep  on  drinking,  drinking,"  resumed  the  clairvoyant. 
"Why,  it's  perfectly  shocking.  What?  If  they  want  to  ask 
me  questions,  I  suppose  they  can." 

"  Doesn't  that  refer  to  us,"  Elane  whispered  to  the  Professor, 
**  about  asking  questions  1 " 

"  Perhaps  it  does."  He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  in  a 
low  tone  said,  "  How  many  guests  are  there?" 

"  Eh  !  How  many  on  the  sofas  1  Seven  or  eight  only,  and 
dinner  enough  for  a  hundred.  What  gluttonous  creatures !  But 
that's  a  fine  young  fellow  sitting  up  in  his  place  now,  and  hold- 
ing up  a  glass,  or  if  it  isn't  a  glass,  something  he's  drinking  out 
of.  How  funny  !  I  seem  to  see  them  drinking  and  waving 
their  cups,  but  I  don't  hear  anything." 

"  What  is  the  young  man  like  that  you  noticed  ? "  asked  the 
Professor. 

"He's  got  short,  curly,  black  hair,  and  a  swarthy  complexion, 
but  he's  very  handsome.  I've  got  a  notion  that  he  knows  it 
too.  How  happy  he  seems,  and  contented,  and  all  the  others 
seem  fond  of  him." 

"Is  that  the  man  you  saw  come  in  the  chair?" 

"  No ;  the  man  who  was  in  the  chair  is  sitting  there  at  the 
corner,  at  least  lolling  on  his  elbow  on  cushions  like  the  rest. 
He's  reading  something  now  that  somebody  has  brought  him. 
How  reverential  the  attendants  seem.  What  ?  They  are  slaves, 
are  they  ?  I  thought  slaves  were  black.  These  people  are  not 
black." 

" "WTiat  is  the  man  at  the  corner  like?" 

"  He's  much  older.  He  looks  rather  grim.  He  isn't  so  nice 
as  that  young  fellow.    But  he  gives  people  orders  when  they 

o  2 


196  KARMA, 

come  to  him.     Everybody  seems  to  know  what  he's  got  to  do 

when  the  man  at  the  corner  speaks  to  him.  There's  the  young 
fellow  calling  for  more  wine.  It's  really  too  bad.  Why,  what 
are  they  doing  now  ?  How  stupid  1  Great  men  like  them, 
they  are  putting  wreaths  of  flowers  on  their  heads.  Slaves  have 
just  brought  these  in." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  young  man  t "  asked  the  Pro- 


"I  don't  know.  He  could  tell  you,  I  suppose,  if  he 
liked." 

**  Who  do  you  mean  by  *  he '  1 " 

"  The  one  who  is  with  me.  I  couldn't  have  come  here  if  he 
hadn't  brought  me.  They're  walking  about  now,  some  of  them. 
There's  my  handsome  young  fellow.  How  tall  he  is,  and  what 
a  sunny,  commanding  look  in  his  face  !  Flaccus  ?  What,  is 
that  his  name?  Yes,  that's  Flaccus,  I  suppose.  And  the  other, 
the  one  at  the  corner,  what's  his  name  ]  Septimus,  Septimus — 
what  ?  Septimus  Manlius  1  I  don't  care  about  their  names, 
but  I  should  like  to  know  more  about  that  young  fellow — he 
interests  me." 

**  Can  you  ask  your  companion  to  tell  you  more  about 
hunl" 

"  This  is  not  his  house,"  said  the  clairvoyant  slowly,  after  a 
little  pause.  "  He's  a  guest  here.  Why,  what  is  there  happen- 
ing 1  I  can't  see  them  plainly.  Everything  seems  in  a  muddle. 
Oh,  that's  it,  is  it  ?— Very  well  1 " 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and  the  Professor 
asked, — 

"  Can  you  tell  us  what  has  been  happening  t " 

"  He  is  taking  me  to  see  the  young  man  at  home.  We  are 
travelling  some  little  distance.  But  I  don't  see  anything  plainly 
yet.  Oh,  this  is  the  country,  but  I'm  not  to  mind  about  that 
There  he  is  again.  This  hasn't  anything  to  do  with  the  dinner 
I  saw.  It's  either  a  long  time  after  it  or  a  long  time  before  it. 
That  doesn't  matter,  it's  the  same  young  man ;  Flaccus,  yes, 
that's  his  name.  He's  in  a  garden,  and  there's  a  woman  with 
him.  She's  a  handsome  woman,  too,  and  oh,  isn't  she  fond  of 
him  !  How  she  hangs  about  his  neck  !  she  must  be  his  wife,  I 
suppose,  if  this  is  his  house.  He  seems  fond  of  hei^  too.  He 
kisses  her  and  looks  happy.  But  she  seems  to  want  him  to  do 
something  that  he  won't.     Oh,  I  see  i    He's  going  away  some> 


PICTURES   IN  THE   ASTRAL   LIGHT.  197 

where,  and  she  wants  him  to  stay.  He's  saying  good-bye.  He 
lifts  her  right  up — how  strong  he  is  ! — and  carries  her  over  there 
to  a  seat  under  that  tree,  and  just  gives  her  a  kiss,  while  she  is 
in  his  arms,  as  if  she  were  a  baby,  and  puts  her  down,  and  now 
he's  off.  And  there  she  is,  crying  so,  poor  thing,  as  if  her  heart 
would  break.  Oh,  I  say  !  He  must  be  hard-hearted  for  all 
that  he  is  so  handsome  and  pleasant." 

**  Where  has  he  gone,"  asked  the  Professor  presently,  as  Mrs. 
Lakesby  remained  silent,  though  still  with  her  eyes  shut,  and 
plunged  more  deeply  than  ever  in  the  ecstatic  trance,  the 
reflection  of  which  shone  as  it  were  in  the  eager  look  of  her 
face. 

"  I  don't  know.  That  picture  is  passed.  He  says  I  shall  see 
him  again,  somewhere  else,  directly." 

Another  pause  ensued,  during  which  the  group  round  Mrs. 
Lakesby's  sofa  remained  watchful  and  spell-bound.  The  free- 
dom and  spontaneity  with  which  the  clairvoyant  had  thrown  off 
her  descriptions  of  the  scenes  she  witnessed  had  given  them  a 
truthful  reality  for  her  audience  that  made  the  situation  im- 
pressive for  them  in  the  highest  degree.  The  course  of  their 
recent  experience  at  Heiligenfels  would  have  broken  down,  and 
swept  away  distrust  or  suspicion  of  a  psychological  mystery 
even  in  witnesses  less  well-prepared  for  such  phenomena  than 
the  party  now  assembled.  As  things  stood,  and  practically 
guaranteed  as  Mrs.  Lakesby's  vision  was  by  the  previous 
sanction  of  the  Baron,  whose  stupendous  power  on  the  physical 
plane  of  occult  science,  which  they  had  aU  seen  displayed,  had 
established  an  almost  boundless  faith  in  him  generally  in  all 
their  minds, — no  one  present  had  any  shadow  of  distrust  of  the 
communications  made  to  them.  It  was  with  a  thrill  of  awe, 
rather  than  incredulity,  that  they  realized  the  nature  of  the 
current  of  perception  on  which  she  was  launched.  That  her 
vision  was  actually  recalling  scenes  enacted  in  ancient  Rome, 
and  bringing  back  the  visible  presence  of  actors  who  had  played 
a  part  in  them,  perhaps  nearly  two  thousand  years  before,  was  a 
conviction,  tremendous  and  astounding  though  it  might  be, 
which  was  forced  upon  them  irresistibly.  They  all  sat  silent 
and  almost  motionless,  waiting  for  the  next  revelation — leaning 
forward  and  gazing  intently  in  the  dim  light  at  IVIrs.  Lakesby's 
upturned  face ;  while  the  great  expanse  of  the  sky,  faintly 
luminous  with  the  slight  moonlight  and  glittering  with  the  un- 


198  KARMA. 

changing  stare,  aeemed  an  emblem  of  immobility  in  the  midst 
of  change, — of  the  persistence  in  nature  which  the  undying 
pictures  in  the  astral  light  that  the  clairvoyant  waa  being 
enabled  to  perceive,  illustrated  in  another  way. 

"  It's  cool  and  grand  and  quiet  here — it's  a  sort  of  library," 
said  Mrs.  Lakesby.  *'  Oh,  there  he  is  again,  our  friend  Flaccus  I 
He's  sitting  beside  an  old  man,  listening  to  him  so  intently. 
I  like  him  better  so  than  any  other  way  I've  seen  him.  I 
wonder  who  the  old  man  is.  Flam — what  1  I  don't  under- 
stand. But  I  like  him.  That's  a  beautiful  face  he  has;  so 
grave  and  serene  and  good.  He  puts  his  hand  on  Flaccus'a 
head  and  Flaccus  almost  kneels  down  before  him.  He  seems 
quite  to  love  the  young  man  ;  and  you  would  never  think,  to 
look  at  him  now,  that  he  is  the  same  we  saw  drinking  at  the 
dinner.  And  yet  he  shakes  his  head  sadly,  and  Flaccus  seems 
sorry,  very  sorry.  I  wonder  what's  the  matter.  He's  a  great 
friend  of  the  old  man's,  is  he  1  Yes,  I  can  see  that  for 
myself.     Flam,  flamen  de I  don't  understand." 

"  Is  he  the  Flamen  Dialis  1 "  suggested  the  Professor. 

"  That's  it ;  yes,  Flamen  Dialis,"  repeated  Mrs.  Lakesby,  the 
physical  organs  of  articulation  catching  more  readily  an  un- 
familiar word  pronounced  on  the  physical  plane  than  on  the 
other,  where  her  higher  faculties  were  moving.  "  Oh,  I  see ! " 
she  added,  after  a  short  pause,  "  that  explains  it." 

There  was  something  rather  tantalizing  for  the  modem 
audience  listening  to  Mrs.  Lakesby's  physical  voice,  in  the 
nature  of  the  conversation  she  was  carrying  on.  Almost  con- 
tinuously, as  she  was  speaking,  her  words  were  all  addressed  to 
her  invisible  companion.  Of  the  castle  party  for  whose  benefit, 
really,  she  was  making  her  astral  excursion — she  seemed  uncon- 
scious, except  that  the  questions  asked  of  the  Professor  at  once 
penetrated  her  higher  faculties  as  ideas  which  evoked  a  response. 
The  nature  of  the  arrangement  had  now  made  itself  apparent  to 
her  audience ;  and  her  last  words  showed  that  she  had  received 
from  her  astral  companion  some  explanation  of  why  the  Flamen 
and  Flaccus  were  friends,  which  satisfied  her  but  remained 
unreported  to  them. 

"  Won't  you  say  what  you  have  heard  about  the  friendship 
of  these  two  men  1 "  asked  the  Professor. 

"  lie  says  the  Flamen  is  related  to  Flaccus,  and  that  Flaccus 
is  almost  his  pupil  in  occultism.     The  Flamen  knows  a  great 


PIOTUEBS   IN   THE   ASTEAL   LIGHT.  1Q9 

deal  of  occult  science — is  very  far  advanced  indeed — and  is 
doing  all  he  rightly  can  to  induce  his  nephew  to  give  up  his  life 
of  pleasure  and  be  altogether  an  occultist.  Flaccus  can't  do 
this,  but  he  loves  the  Flamen  and  is  a  great  deal  with  him,  and 
he  would  like  to  join  him  altogether  and  go  with  him  to  a  place 
abroad  they  are  talking  about.  And  Flaccus  has  got  a  friend 
who  comes  in  now ;  there  they  are,  all  three  together.  The 
whole  thing  is  getting  much  plainer  to  me  than  it  was  at  first. 
I  seem  as  if  I  could  answer  any  questions  about  them,  as  I  know 
all  about  them,  and  only  have  to  think  of  anything  about  them 
to  get  on  the  track  of  it." 

"What  does  Flaccus's  friend  loo^  like?"  asked  the  Pro- 
fessor. 

"  He's  a  humble  friend,  I  should  say ;  not  a  rich,  powerful 
man  like  Flaccus.  He's  almost  poorly  dressed,  and  short  and 
ugly.  But  he's  good.  He's  got  a  beautiful  aura.  By-the-bye, 
I  did  not  notice  that  before.  I  don't  so  much  like  the  aura 
round  Flaccus.  But  Flaccus  seems  to  like  the  little  man  too. 
He's  quite  lame ;  one  foot  must  have  had  a  bad  accident.  Oh  ! 
now  I  understand.  I  seemed  to  feel  it  all  in  a  flash — almost  to 
see  it  happening  a  long  time  ago.  The  little  man — what? 
Fa — Fa — what — Fabian  is  it  1  Very  weU.  Fabian  and  Flaccus 
were  friends  when  they  were  boys ;  and  Fabian  saved  Flaccus's 
life  when  some  building  was  falling  down,  by  rushing  in  to  him. 
There  must  have  been  a  little  shock  of  earthquake.  I  fancy 
people  were  running  about  frightened,  and  out  into  the  open 
air ;  but  Fabian  ran  in  to  help  Flaccus,  and  did  help  him  out. 
Flaccus  had  been  ill,  and  was  in  bed.  But  Fabian  got  his  own 
foot  crushed  in  the  scramble."  After  a  little  pause :  "  He's 
not  a  bit  sorry  for  it ;  he  admires  Flaccus  so,  aud  is  almost  glad 
to  think  he  suffered  to  save  him.  The  Flamen  is  kind  to  him ; 
but  somehow  he  seems  to  like  Flaccus  best — What?  Oh, 
that's  it,  is  it?" 

The  stream  of  explanation  was  again  checked,  till  the  Pro- 
fessor set  it  going  once  more  by  asking  why  the  Flamen  preferred 
Flaccus. 

"  He  knows  he  could  if  he  would  be  a  great  student  of  occult 
science  ;  aud  the  other  couldn't  yet,  even  if  he  tried.  Besides, 
the  other  has  suffered  so  much  ;  he  has  had  such  a  hard  life  all 
round — poor  and  friendless  and  ill-used.  He's  just  a  dependent, 
is  he,  Fabian,  a  freed  man — very  well.  Anyhow,  he's  so  gentle, 
14 


200  KABMA. 

and  kind,  and  unselfish.  He  must  have  his  reward  first  Hla 
turn  will  come.  I  wonder  how  he's  to  be  rewarded,  poor  fellow  1 
The  Flamen  lends  him  books  :  that's  what  he's  come  for  now — 
to  get  one  promised  to  him  ;  for  he's  studying  all  he  can.  It's 
harder  work  for  him  to  learn  than  for  Flaccus.  What  a  queer 
book  the  Flamen  gives  him.  It  isn't  a  book  ;  it's  a  roU  of  paper 
— a  manuscript,  I  suppose.     Very  well ! " 

There  was  a  long  pause  here.  Nothing  bad  been  said  to 
afford  a  clue  on  which  a  question  could  be  hung;  so  the 
listeners  waited  patiently  in  perfect  silence.  All  the  while  she 
was  speaking,  indeed,  they  were  trained  in  patience,  as  the 
sentences  did  not  flow  forth  in  a  uniform  stream.  They  would 
be  a  good  deal  spaced  out,  as  it  were,  by  pauses,  during  which 
the  ideas  they  afterwards  expressed  seemed  to  have  been  taken 
in.     At  last  j\Irs.  Lakesby  said, — 

"  There's  Flaccus.  Why  this  is  another  place.  I  haven't 
been  here  before.  It's  just  beside  the  water — a  kind  of  seaside 
place.  And  Flaccus  is  standing  by  the  water,  near  a  beautiful 
big  boat.  It's  all  silk  and  cushions  inside ;  how  nice.  Now 
he's  helping  a  young  woman  into  the  boat ;  and  now  he  gets  in 
too,  after  her.  Isn't  she  a  beauty  1  What  a  lovely  arm  !  Oh, 
I  say  !  but  this  isn't  the  other  young  woman  !  Flaccus  seems 
to  love  this  one  the  best.  How  contented  he  looks,  lying  there 
in  the  boat  with  his  head  in  her  lap  and  his  arms  round  her. 
No,  don't  take  me  away  yet.  I  like  to  watch  them.  Enough  t 
No,  it  isn't  nearly  enough.  I  don't  want  to  go  back — to  thai 
thing  in  the  distance  there.     Indeed — I — I — I  won't — no,  no  ! " 

With  confused,  vague,  and  inarticulate  protests  at  the  resto- 
ration of  her  absent  soul  to  her  body,  Mrs.  Lakesby  subsided  for 
a  brief  interval  into  silence,  then  coughed  two  or  three  times 
and  recovered  her  normal  senses — sitting  up  on  the  sofa  and 
looking  about  her  for  a  few  moments  without  speaking. 

"  That's  over,  is  it  not  ?  She  has  come  to  herself  again,* 
said  Mrs.  Miller,  "  has  she  not  1 " 

'*  Is  your  vision  quite  over  1 "  asked  the  Professor. 

"  I  am  trying  to  fix  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby  absently.  And 
then,  after  awhile,  "  Have  I  been  talking  to  you  all  the  time  1 " 

**  Yes ;  you  have  been  giving  us  a  most  profoundly  interesting 
account  of  all  you  have  seen." 

**  I  lost  consciousness  on  this  plane  altogether,"  she  said. 
"  What  have  I  told  you  about  f " 


PIOTUKES   IN   THB   ASTEAL   LIGHT.  201 

*•  You  have  been  describing  ancient  Roman  times,  and  telling 
ufl  about  riaccus  and  Fabian,  and  others." 

"Ancient  Eoman  times?  Oh,  ah!  now  I  understand.  I 
never  tried  to  fix  it  in  that  way.  I  was  merely  conscious  of 
what  I  saw.     Where's  the  Baron  1 " 

"  He  has  not  come  back  since  he  went  away  before  you  went 
oflf  in  a  different  manner." 

"  Isn't  it  getting  a  little  cold  ?    Let  us  go  in." 

They  all  went  into  the  drawing-room,  dazzled  for  awhile  by 
the  lamps  after  their  long  sojourn  in  the  partial  darkness  out- 
side, and  moved  vaguely  about,  bewildered  by  the  strangeness 
of  the  experience  they  had  been  having. 

"  Who's  who  ?  "  asked  the  Professor  at  length ;  "  can  you 
interpret  what  you  have  told  us,  Mrs.  Lakesby  1 " 

"  I  haven't  even  thought  of  it  in  that  light,"  she  said.  **  It 
was  so  interesting.  I  would  like  to  have  seen  more.  I  can 
remember  that  I  did  not  want  to  come  back,  but  I  was  made  to." 

"  Yes ;  you  evidently  resisted,  and  protested  aloud ;  but  who 
was  it  made  you  ? " 

"  The  companion  I  was  with.** 

•*  And  who  was  he  1 " 

"  Ah,  that's  the  question.  One  of  them  it  mtust  have  been ; 
a  high,  powerful  one,  I  suspect." 

"One  of  who?" 

"  One  of  those  the  Baron  belongs  to.  It  was  one  of  those  " 
— looking  round  and  speaking  especially  to  Merland — "  that  I 
saw  in  the  wood." 

"Saw  in  the  woodi"  said  the  Professor;  "what  do  yon 
mean?" 

"  I  saw  two  figures  beside  the  Baron — figures  on  the  astral 
plane  that  the  rest  of  you  did  not  see — when  the  tree  went 
down.     I  told  Mr.  Merland  about  it  at  the  time." 

The  Professor  gave  symptoms  of  suppressed  despair. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Mrs.  Lakesby.  It  is  simply  awful  that  you 
win  bottle  up  these  priceless  observations  till  they  come  out  in 
this  way  by  the  merest  accident." 

The  protest,  which  was  one  of  a  kind  the  Professor  had  so 
frequently  had  occasion  to  make  before,  excited  some  merri- 
ment, and  restored  a  more  familiar  tone  to  the  conversation,  so 
far  under  the  exalting  influence,  to  a  certain  extent,  of  the  long 
clairvoyant  trance. 


202  KARMl. 

"  I  didn't  bottle  it  up,  Professor,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby, 
pleading  for  forgiveness ;  "  didn't  I  mention  it  to  Mr.  Mer- 
land?" 

"  But  why  not  to  all  of  us  t " 

**  I  remember  now.  You  yourself  made  us  all  keep  quiet 
while  you  explained  what  was  to  be  done.  It  was  then  I  saw 
the  two  figures." 

"  Oh,  that's  capital,"  cried  Mrs.  Miller ;  "  I  recollect,  you 
ordered  us  all  to  hold  our  tongues.  I  remember  passing  on 
the  order  to  Jem." 

"  But,  Merland,  my  good  fellow,  why  didn't  you —  t  But 
no  matter."  The  Professor  waived  all  further  discussion  of 
criminality  in  the  case,  and  merely  cross-examined  Mrs.  Lakesby 
as  to  what  she  had  seen. 

"  Coupled  with  the  fact  that  one  of  these  mysterious  beings 
was  your  spiritual  guide  this  evening,  Mrs.  Lakesby,"  he  said, 
when  the  incident  had  been  thoroughly  explored,  "  the  whole 
observation  is  one  of  exceedingly  great  interest.  It  throws  light 
upon  some  things  the  Baron  may  be  not  fully  at  liberty  to 
explain  to  us  himself." 

Then  the  conversation  reverted  to  the  scenes  of  which  their 
clairvoyant  had  just  been  a  witness.  It  was  clear  that  the 
pictures  shown  to  Mrs.  Lakesby  had  not  been  taken  at  random 
from  the  vast  store-house  of  Nature  to  which  they  belonged. 
The  pei'sons  who  had  passed  across  them,  or  some,  or  at  least 
one  of  them,  must  have  been  former  incarnations  of  some  or  one 
of  the  people  then  present  at  Heiligenfels,  or  of  their  friends. 
The  leading  figure  of  the  visions,  Flaccus,  was  evidently  the 
person  to  whom  their  attention  should  first  be  turned. 

"  Who  of  us  feels  as  if  he  had  been  your  riotous  hero,  Mrs. 
Lakesby,  I  wonder  ? "  the  Professor  askei  "  If  it's  you,  Blane, 
you've  greatly  mended  your  manners  since  the  old  days,  at  all 
events." 

"I  do  not  think  the  smallest  tie  could  connect  me  with  such 
a  magnificent  personage  as  Flaccus,"  said  Blane,  meeting  the 
suggestion  with  the  most  unequivocal  repudiation.  "  If  Mrs. 
Lakesby  introduces  us  another  evening  to  some  entirely  insig- 
nificant person,  with  no  history  whatever  in  the  remote  past,  I 
might  possibly  claim  him  for  my  astral  ancestor ;  but  Flaccus  is 
certainly  not  me." 

'*  There  are  aspects  of  the  character  which  I  could  read  into  mj 


WOTUEBS   IN   THE   ASTRAL   LIGHT.  203 

own,"  said  the  Professor,  with  perfect  frankness ;  "  but  again, 
other  aspects  that  seem  to  me  quite  incompatible." 

**  Can  the  heartless  reprobate  be  Jem  1 "  inquired  Mrs.  Miller, 

"  As  regards  good  looks,"  said  the  Captain,  "  there  might  be 
a  something  to  identify  us,  but  I'm  atraid  I'm  fallen  off  very 
much  as  a  hon  vivant." 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby,  "  you  won't  easily  match 
Flaccus  for  good  looks." 

"  Listen  to  his  latest  victim,"  cried  the  Professor.  "  Here's 
altogether  an  unexampled  case  of  a  lady  becoming  suddenly 
attached  to  a  man  seventeen  or  eighteen  centuries  older  than 
herself.  We,  none  of  us,  need  despair  after  this  on  account  of 
suffering  from  anno  domini" 

"  Is  it  quite  necessary,"  inquired  Blane,  **  that  Flaccus  should 
now  be  a  man  at  all  ?  As  I  understand  the  matter,  sex  is  by 
no  means  invariable  throughout  successive  incarnations,  and  does 
not  belong  in  any  true  sense  to  the  spiritual  individuality  at  alL 
Shall  we  perhaps  be  right  in  seeking  Flaccus  among  the  ladies 
whom  we  know  1 " 

**  Goodness  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Miller,  **  think  of  Miss  Vaughan,  for 
example,  as  Flaccus.      She's  good-looking  enough,  at  any  rate." 

"  What  a  very  ghastly  notion,"  Merland  could  not  help 
saying. 

"  I  don't  say  it  is  so.  I  was  merely  applying  Mr.  Blane's 
idea." 

"  It's  a  strained  hypothesis,"  said  the  Professor,  **  that  it 
seems  to  me  we  are  not  called  upon  to  entertain  with  more 
obvious  ones  before  us.  For  example,  we  need  not  necessarily 
go  out  of  this  room  in  search  of  our  man.  How  about  Merland 
for  the  man  we  are  in  search  of  1 " 

There  was  silence  for  a  little  while,  every  one  considering  the 
suggestion.  Merland  had  certainly  been  subdued  rather  for  the 
last  few  days,  but,  on  the  whole,  his  was  a  sunny,  joyous,  and  a 
social  temperament,  and,  without  being  extraordinary  for  phy- 
sical beauty,  he  was  an  exceedingly  good-looking  young  English- 
man of  a  manly  and  healthful  type. 

"  Very  true ! "  said  Blane ;  "I  do  not  know  that  Merland 
is  altogether  to  be  congratulated,  but  certainly  there  are  features 
in  the  description  that  would  correspond." 

"  I  don't  think,"  said  Captain  Miller,  "  that  Flaccus  deserves 
to  be  Merland." 


204  EABMA. 

"Jem,"  said  the  Professor  thoughtfully,  "that's  a  very  sound 
and  sensible  remark  of  yours.  We're  on  the  wrong  tack  in  this 
matter.  Flaccus,  in  his  present  incarnation,  must  be  paying 
penalties.  We  have  been  looking  out  for  correspondences  when 
we  ought  to  have  been  in  search  of  contrasts." 

It  was  borne  strongly  in  on  Merland's  mind,  as  the  Professor 
spoke,  that  he  was  beginning  to  pay  penalties,  and  that  the 
trouble  on  which  he  had  just  entered  was  likely  to  be  a  very  large 
and  comprehensive  penalty.  It  was  a  point  he  could  not  ex- 
plain, however,  and  he  threw  out  what  he  was  conscious  of  as 
an  inadequate  suggestion  on  the  subject,  though  in  harmony 
with  the  inner  working  of  his  thought. 

"  Flaccus,  at  all  events,  if  he  had  been  converted  into  me," 
he  said,  "would  have  fallen  a  long  way  from  his  high  estate. 
It  may  be  that  that  would  constitute  a  penalty." 

"  It  wouldn't  do,  my  dear  fellow — it  wouldn't  do,*'  said  the 
Professor.  "We've  got  a  man  about  whom  we  know  some 
salient  things.  Of  course  I  do  not  make  any  great  fuss  about 
the  young  lady  in  the  boat.  A  young  Eoman  nobleman  would 
not  be  very  straitlaced  about  such  friendships  as  that,  even  if 
he  had  got  a  wife  at  home.  But  I  take  it,  the  lady  in  the  boat 
is  symbolical.  She  has  been  shown  to  us  for  a  purpose.  There 
were  probably  other  ladies  yet,  if  all  the  truth  were  known. 
And  the  wife  at  home,  you  will  remember,  was  left  crying  bit- 
terly. Flaccus  evidently  had  a  great  deal  on  his  conscience,  or, 
as  it  sat  very  lightly  on  his  conscience  while  he  was  alive,  let  us 
say  on  his  Karma,  and  that  has  got  to  be  paid  for  heavily.  We 
should  not  be  doing  at  aU  right  in  looking  out  for  a  specially 
handsome,  happy,  or  prosperous  man  now,  to  be  himself  redi- 
vivtis — quite  the  contrary,  an  exactly  opposite  sort  of  man  Ib 
wanted." 

"  Annerly  !  "  said  Captain  Miller. 

The  suggestion  flashed  upon  them  all  as  a  shock,  and  yet  aa 
a  revelation. 

"Jem,  you  are  Inspired  this  evening,"  said  Mrs.  Miller, 
"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ? " 

The  Professor  remained  with  his  features  rigid  for  some 
moments,  and  on  mature  examination  found  the  Captain's  idea 
very  good. 

"  I  had  worked  out  the  problem  as  an  abstraction,"  he  said, 
"  but  had  not  applied  my  own  reasoning.     You  are  quite  right. 


FIOTUBES   IN  THB  ASTRAL   LIQHT.  205 

If  Flaccus  is  any  one  of  the  party  lately  assembled  here,  he 
must  be  Annerly." 

"  Has  Annerly,"  asked  Blane,  "  been  specially  unhappy  about 
women,  does  anybody  know  1  '* 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  said  Merland  ;  '*  it's  a  matter  he  does  not 
like  talking  about,  but  he  has  had  a  great  disappointment  in 
that  way." 

"That's  marvellously  exact,"  said  the  Professor,  "and  most 
instructive." 

The  talk  on  the  subject,  for  some  time,  was  general  and 
variegated. 

"  Poor  Flaccus  ! "  said  Mrs.  Lakesby.  "  I'm  sure  I  like  Mr. 
Annerly  most  cordially,  and  yet  one  can  see  he  is  not  a  happy 
man." 

"  But  still,"  urged  Blane,  "  there  are  the  grand  qualities  in 
the  man  working  on.  He  has  forfeited  his  handsome  appear- 
ance and  his  opportunities  of  happiness,  but  in  the  midst  of 
suffering  he  is  still  his  higher  self.  The  friend  and  occult  pupil 
of  the  Flam  en  is  assuredly  the  foremost  of  us  all  to  profit  by 
the  opportunities  of  occult  study  we  have  all  enjoyed  here.  I 
suspect  the  Baron  would  recognize  the  Flamen's  pupil  in 
Annerly  very  clearly." 

*'  It  is  simply  a  process  of  purification,"  said  the  Professor, 
"  that  he  is  going  through.  The  Annerly  we  know  may  be 
passing  through  much  suffering,  but  in  connection  with  tran- 
sitory things.  He  has  the  burden  of  a  poor  physique,  but  that 
is  for  the  one  life  only.  He  has  been  denied  happiness  in  love, 
but  who  can  say  if  that  is  not  a  blessing  in  disguise  1  I  dare- 
say happiness  in  love,  if  the  truth  were  known,  is  sometimes  a 
curse  in  disguise.  It  is  easy  to  understand  that  Annerly,  to- 
day, may  be  on  a  higher  rung  of  the  evolutionary  ladder  than 
when  he  was  crowned  with  roses  and  drinking  too  much  Fa- 
lemian." 

"  If  Mr.  Annerly  had  known  what  he  was  about,"  said  Mrs. 
Miller,  **he  wouldn't  even  have  put  himself  in  the  way  of 
getting  hurt  in  a  love  affair.  He's  bound  to  be  unlucky  now,  I 
suppose,  in  everything  of  that  sort." 

"  Is  there  anybody  else,  I  wonder,  that  we  could  identify  1 " 
said  the  Professor. 

"  There  was  one  other  person  named,  if  that  might  be  a  clue,** 
Blane  pointed  out ;  **  Flaccus's  generous  and  devoted  friend.    If 

14 


206  KARMA. 

the  rule  of  contrasts  will  apply  here,  as  well  as  in  the  other 
case,  we  ought  to  identify  him  in  the  person  of  some  one  with 
a  very  bright  and  prosperous  present." 

The  same  idea  may  have  occurred  to  more  than  one  of  them 
at  the  same  time,  but  it  was  Mrs.  Lakesby  who  impulsively 
gave  it  expression.  Merland  was  standing  up,  one  hand  resting 
on  the  arm  of  a  sofa  on  which  Mrs.  Lakesby  had  taken  a  seat. 
The  light  of  a  lamp  close  by  shone  full  upon  his  pleasant,  good- 
looking  face  and  tall,  graceful  figure,  set  off  to  the  best  advan- 
tage in  the  evening-dress  he  wore.  Throwing  herself  round  and 
resting  both  hands  clasped  over  his  upon  the  arm  of  the  sofa,  Mrs. 
Lakesby  looked  up  in  his  face  with  a  bright  smile,  as  it  were,  of 
recognition,  and  cried  aloud, — 

"Fabian  I" 


CHAPTER  XXin. 

A   VOIOB   FROM   ABOVBi 


At  breakfast  next  morning  the  Baron  no  sooner  made  his 
appearance  than  he  was  besieged  by  questions  relative  to  the 
events  of  the  previous  evening ;  and  to  the  conjectures  that 
had  arisen  out  of  them. 

"  It  will  perhaps  seem  rather  absurd  to  you,"  he  said,  in 
reply  to  some  especially  searching  inquiry  from  Mrs.  Miller, 
"  but  I  can't  give  you  any  positive  information  in  the  matter. 
I  may  be  able  to  help  you,  indirectly,  to  some  means  of  forming 
conclusions,  but  at  least  you  must  dot  your  ikS  and  cross  your 
f «  for  yourself.  All  of  us,  who  are  more  or  less  deeply  pledged 
to  occult  pursuits,  become  involved  in  a  network  of  may  and 
may  not,  the  motives  of  which  are  not  often  quite  unintelligible 
to  outsiders." 

"All  right  I"  said  the  Professor;  "when  we  know  where 
the  wall  is  set  up  which  bars  progress  in  any  particular  direction 
it  is  easy  to  act  accordingly.  But  I  daresay  some  general 
questions  may  be  permissible  about  the  operation  of  Karmio 
laws  1 " 

'*  More  than  permissible :  welcome.** 


A  VOICE   FEOM   ABOVE, 

•*  Very  well  then.  How  are  we  to  look  at  a  certain  question 
of  probabilities  1  Take  a  number  of  contemporary  persons 
belonging  to  a  very  remote  period, — say,  ancient  Roman  times, 
— isn't  it  a  very  unlikely  thing  that  they  should  again  be 
contemporaries  at  a  very  much  later  time  1  Because  the  forces 
which  keep  them  suspended,  as  it  were,  in  spiritual  existence 
for  one  or  two  thousand  years,  would  all  have  to  be  exactly 
equal  to  drop  them  down  again  on  earth  at  the  same  moment, 
and  that  does  not  recommend  itself  to  the  mind  as  likely." 

"  But  suppose  the  contemporariness  of  your  hypothetical 
group  the  first  time  was  itself  not  quite  a  matter  of  chance  ?  If 
a  number  of  human  individualities  had  been  drawn  together  by 
some  tie  of  association  before,  the  same  attractions  might  assert 
themselves  again.  Attractions  of  that  kind  even  might  be  a 
thousand  times  more  potent  in  th*  spiritual  world  indeed,  as 
conducing  to  a  nearly  simultaneous  re-incarnation  than  on  this 
earth,  once  the  individualities  were  imprisoned  in  flesh  again." 

"  Very  good.  Then  it  is  not  to  be  put  aside  as  an  extrava- 
gant hypothesis,  that  several  people  now  living  and  knowing 
one  another  might  have  lived  and  known  one  another  before." 

"  Anything  rather  than  an  extravagant  hypothesis, — espe- 
cially when  you  superadd  this  consideration:  that  supposing 
A,  B,  and  C  were  living  together  at  a  remote  period,  A  might 
be  so  long  a  time  in  a  spiritual  state  after  that  life,  as  to  give 
B  and  C,  supposing  them  to  have  weaker  spiritual  affinities, 
time  for  an  intermediate  physical  life,  and  for  an  ultimate 
second  return  to  earth  in  company  with  A." 

Letters  which  were  brought  in  now  interrupted  the  con- 
versation for  awhile. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  our  friend  Annerly  this  morning  V* 
the  Baron  inquired  presently  of  Merland,  after  reading  some  of 
his  own  letters. 

"  Indeed  I  have,"  said  the  young  man.  "  I've  heard  the 
most  surprising  news  I've  heard  for  a  long  time  past." 

'*  It  looks  as  if  we  should  not  see  him  back  again  at  Heili- 
genfels  just  at  present." 

"  Why,  what's  happened  1 "  asked  M"s.  Miller. 

"I  don't  know  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry  for  his  sake," 
Merland  answered  ;  '*  but  I  suppose  one  must  be  glad  for  him, 
because  he  is  so  much  to  himself.  He's  fallen  in  with  that 
young  lady  he  was  engaged  to  before,  and  it's  all  made  up 


208  KAEMA. 

between  them  again.    He's  going  to  be  married  to  her  now,  in 

a  very  short  time." 

**  Hullo  ! "  cried  the  Professor. 

Ejaculations  of  wonder  passed  round  the  table. 

"I  say,"  remarked  Captain  Jem,  "there's  something  got 
wrong  with  the  laws  of  Karma." 

"  Or  perhaps  with  our  application  of  then?  "  said  Blane. 

"  Oh,  goodness ! "  said  Mrs.  Lakesby,  "  have  we  got  to  go 
himting  for  Flaccus  all  over  again  1 " 

"  Mr.  Annerly  was  such  a  perfect  fit,"  Mrs.  Miller  urged, 
"  There  may  be  some  mistake.  Had  you  heard  about  this  also, 
Baron  1 " 

"Yes:  that  was  what  made  me  ask  if  Mr.  Merland  had 
heard." 

"  Claude,"  said  Mrs.  Miller  to  Merland,  "  you'd  better  write 
to  him  and  warn  him  not  to  think  of  it.  It  can't  turn  out  for 
his  good." 

"I'd  like  to  ask  the  Baron — "  Blane  began,  but  then 
checked  himself,  and  added,  "No:  I  beg  his  pardon.  I  do 
not  think  the  inquiry  would  be  justifiable." 

A  laugh  was  raised  at  the  caution  showed. 

**  We'd  all  like  to  ask  the  Baron  quantities  of  questions/* 
said  the  Professor;  "that  goes  without  saying." 

"I  think  you  are  all  most  wonderfully  courteous,  discreet, 
and  forbearing,"  said  the  Baron. 

"  We  may  not  be  such  beasts  as  we  look.  Baron,"  said  the 
Professor,  "  while  we  should  be  worse  if  we  were  not  careful  of 
the  embarrassments  you  may  be  placed  in  by  trying  to  help  us." 

"  At  all  events,"  Blane  went  on,  "  we  may  be  overrating  the 
necessity — arising  out  of  past  circumstances  in  the  life  of 
Flaccus — for  supposing  that  he  must  be  unhappy  throughout 
his  present  life.  He  may  have  worked  oflf  his  Karma  by  this 
time,  and  be  fairly  entitled  to  a  free  discharge  from  its  efi'ects." 

"  It's  amusing  to  hear  you  people  talk  of  your  friend's  past 
sins  so  confidently,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby.  "After  all,  it's  only 
a  guess  that  Mr.  Annerly  is  Flaccus." 

"  If  he's  going  to  be  happy,  after  all,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  "  I'm 
sure  he  can't  be  Flaccus  at  aU.  Kemember  how  he  made  that 
poor  thing  cry." 

"  Mrs.  Miller,"  protested  the  Professor,  "  your  otherwise 
perfect  sex  will  make  violent  assumptions.     First,  I  would  point 


A  VOIOB   PROM   ABOVl.  209 

out  that  we  really  do  not  know  why  the  lady  in  the  garden  was 
crying.     It  is  quite  an  assumption  that  Flaccus  was  to  blame." 

**  Just  like  a  man's  reasoning,"  said  Mrs.  Miller ;  "  so  mean  I 
But  go  on.** 

"  ^"Secondly,  and  what  is  more  important,  you  assume  that 
because  a  man  says  he  is  going  to  get  married,  he  must  neces- 
sarily be  going  to  be  happy.  That  is  about  the  most  violent 
assumption  you  could  indulge  in." 

"  For  shame  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Lakesby.  **  He's  got  a  chance  that 
way  of  being  happy  if  he  behaves  himself.'* 

"  Who  can  tell  us  anything  about  the  lady  ? "  said  Mrs.  Miller. 
"  What  sort  of  person  is  she  1  Do  you  know  her,  Mr.  Merland  1 
What's  her  name  1 " 

"  I  don't  know  her,"  Merland  answered,  with  some  hesitation ; 
"  and,  beyond  her  name,  I  can't  teU  you  much  about  her.  Her 
name  is  Miriam  Seaford." 

The  Professor  was  a  strong  man  in  all  respects,  not  to  be 
betrayed  by  a  sudden  excitement  into  any  display  of  nervousness. 
But,  with  his  coffee-cup  half-way  to  his  Hps,  he  paused,  as 
Merland  uttered  the  words,  and  gazed  across  the  table  at  him 
with  set  and  rigid  features.  He  slowly  set  his  cup  down  again, 
but  did  not  speak. 

"  Kever  heard  the  name  before,"  said  Mrs.  Miller.  "  Is  she 
well  connected  1 " 

"  No.  I  don't  think  she's  much  what  one  could  call  well 
connected  ;  but  there  were  no  bounds  to  Annerly's  aflfection  for 
her.  It  will  make  quite  a  new  man  of  him  being  all  right  with 
her  again." 

"  It  seems  to  cast  a  bad  omen  over  his  nuptials,"  Blane  said, 
"  to  have  this  feeling  about  him.  Under  the  circumstances  I 
should  say  it  would  be  wisest  on  our  part  to  say  nothing  to  him 
about  our  experiences  of  last  night,  with  all  the  conjectures 
arising  out  of  them  ;  that  may  be  quite  wrong  indeed.  I  think 
we  should  not  lose  sight  of  that  possibility." 

"  Most  certainly,"  said  the  Professor ;  "  nothing  should  be 
said  to  Annerly  about  last  night.  But  I  can't  think  our  con- 
jecture wrong.  The  correspondences  are  too  close  in  many 
ways.  The  gravest  question  would  be  whether — **  Just  then 
his  eye  happened  to  meet  Mrs.  Lakesby's,  and  he  remembered 
the  little  incident  that  had  passed  between  them  some  time 
previously,  when  he  had  pressed  her  to  tell  him  what  she  had 


210  EABMA. 

clairvoyantly  perceived  about  him,  and  when  she  had  said  she 
had  seen  the  astral  reflection  near  him  of  a  woman,  whom  she 
named.  Mrs.  Lakesby  evidently  remembered  the  incident  too, 
for  she  was  looking  at  the  Professor  rather  steadily. 

"  — 'm,"  he  said,  pausing,  "  it  is  very  difficult  to  know  what 
to  suggest.     The  circumstances  are  so  peculiar." 

"Fabian  ought  to  know  best,"  said  Mrs.  Miller;  "at  all 
events  he  has  known  his  friend  a  long  time.  How  many 
thousand  years  is  it  1  '* 

"  Don't  you  feel  very  much  ashamed  sometimes,  Miss  Blane,** 
said  Captain  Miller  reflectively,  "of  all  the  trouble  you  women 
cause  in  the  world,  one  way  and  another  t  Look  at  poor  Flaccus ; 
and  he  isn't  out  of  it  yet." 

'*  Who  do  you  call  the  world,  pray  I "  said  Mrs.  Miller. 
"  Listen  to  the  selfishness  of  the  tyrants." 

But  the  Professor,  whose  good  spirits  generally  rendered  him 
prompt  to  take  up  any  light-hearted  challenge  of  this  sort,  was 
silent  and  grave,  and  the  diversion  proved  a  cul-de-sac. 

The  Professor  retained,  in  the  course  of  the  subsequent  con- 
versation, his  conviction  that  the  identity  of  the  Eoman  bero 
had  been  rightly  placed,  but  the  satisfaction  of  some  of  the 
others  on  this  point  was  not  so  decided.  Merland,  especially, 
did  not  take,  with  entire  cordiality,  to  the  Fabian  idea. 

The  argument  on  which  it  was  based — that  he  represented  a 
good  man,  enjoying  in  a  very  happy  estate  the  fruit  of  past  good 
deeds — seemed  faulty  in  his  judgment.  The  ladies  were  in- 
clined to  pet  him  on  the  strength  of  his  bygone  virtues,  and 
this,  somehow,  rather  went  against  the  grain.  Still,  he  was 
too  thoroughly  good  friends  with  them  all  there  to  be  seriously 
annoyed.  He  only  protested  that  things  were  not  always  what 
they  seemed,  and  that  if  they  were  making  him  out  to  be  Fabian 
because  of  ideas  they  had  formed  about  what  he,  Merland,  was 
in  actual  life,  the  whole  theory  would  fall  to  the  ground,  supposing 
them  to  be  wrong  in  their  estimate  of  him. 

"  We  must  wait  for  further  enlightenment,"  he  urged;  and  it 
was  generally  felt  that  the  whole  situation  might  very  desirably 
be  illuminated  a  little  more. 

The  Baron  raised  no  objection  when  an  inquiry  was  made  of 
hixn  at  dinner  whether  he  thought  Mrs  Lakesby  would  be  fit 
to  travel  again  that  evening. 

During  the  day  the  Professor  had  taken  counsel  with  no  one 


A  VOICE   FROM   ABOTl.  211 

concerning  any  special  circumstanceB  connected,  in  his  own 
mind,  with  the  name  that  had  been  assigned  to  Annerly'e  in- 
tended bride.  He  had  been  less  conversational  than  usual,  and 
had  even  gone  out  in  the  afternoon  for  some  exercise  by  himself. 
The  morning  he  and  Blane  had  spent  in  compiling  a  complete 
record,  as  far  as  their  memory  enabled  them  to  do  so,  of  the 
descriptions  that  had  been  given  the  preceding  evening  by  Mrs. 
Lakesby  when  in  her  trance ;  and  this  had  been  further  am- 
plified by  consultation  with  the  other  witnesses  and  by  reference 
to  Mrs.  Lakesby,  who  was  here  and  there  enabled  to  fill  up 
details  and  give  little  additional  points  from  her  own  recollections 
of  what  she  had  seen.  The  day,  in  this  way,  had  not  been 
idle  or  ill-spent,  and  the  sense  of  exhilaration  attaching  to  the 
feeling  of  having  thus  cleared  up  the  work  before  him,  restored 
the  Professor  himself  to  something  like  his  usual  frame  of  mind 
in  the  evening.  He  was  never  a  man  to  wear  his  heart  upon 
his  sleeve,  and  whatever  resolutions  he  formed  on  the  subject 
of  Miss  Seaford's  engagement,  he  kept  locked  up  in  his  own 
breast. 

Only  a  few  words  had  passed  between  himself  and  Mrs. 
Lakesby  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon  on  the  subject  of  the 
name  she  had  once  pronounced. 

"  Do  you  remember,  Mrs.  Lakesby,"  the  Professor  had  asked, 
taking  an  opportimity  when  he  could  speak  to  her  unheard  by 
the  others,  *'  having  once  told  me  that  you  saw  a  figure,  or  an 
astral  reflection  of  the  figure,  of  a  woman  near  me  1 " 

"  I  remember,*'  she  answered,  **  and  I  remember  the  name  I 
told  you  I  was  impressed  by ;  but  I  don't  know  any  more,  and 
I  don't  want  to  know  anything  more.  Don't  talk  to  me  about 
it  unless  you  wish  me  to  know  more,  for  you  don't  know  what 
you  may  not  bring  up  unintentionally. 

The  Professor  acquiesced  in  his  most  straightforward  manner. 

"  I  knew  she  was  somehow  connected  with  Mr.  Annerly,  be- 
cause I  had  seen  the  same  figure  near  him.  That  puzzled  me 
at  the  time,  and  I  was  going  to  ask  some  question  about  it  then ; 
but  it  struck  me  as  being  no  business  of  mine  so  I  let  the 
matter  alone." 

The  Professor  was  quite  willing  to  let  the  matter  drop,  so 
nothing  more  was  said  about  it ;  and  he  was  rather  relieved 
than  otherwise  at  finding  that  Mrs.  Lakesby  did  not  desii'e  to 
pursue  the  topic.     80  the  day  passed,  and  in  the  evening  at 

P  2 


212  KABMA. 

dinner  the  inquiry  was  made  as  to  whether  the  clairvoyant 
would  probably  be  fit  for  travel. 

"  I  should  have  thought,"  said  the  lady  herself,  **  that  Mrs. 
Lakesby  might  have  been  consulted  on  the  point " — she  had  a 
trick  in  this  way  of  referring  to  herself  by  name  in  the  third 
person.  But  there  was  no  acrimony  in  her  objection,  for  aU  the 
party  at  the  castle  were  her  devoted  admirers  and  enthusiastic 
friends,  and  she  fully  recognized  this. 

"  We  wouldn't  have  you  go  on  any  account,  dear  Agatha," 
said  Mrs.  Lliller,  "  unless  we  were  sure  it  was  good  and  safe  for 
you." 

"  Safe  for  me !  Why,  I'm  wandering  about  somewhere,  I 
can  tell  you,  many  more  nights  than  I  stay  quietly  at  home  in 
bed.  And  other  people  wander  too,  sometimes,  who  don't 
remember  it  afterwards." 

"  Any  one  among  us,  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Blane,  who  was 
sitting  next  to  her. 

*'  Yes."  She  laughed  a  little,  and  was  half-reluctant  to  make 
her  statement  more  explicit.     "  There's  nothing  in  it,  really." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  the  Professor  soothingly ;  **  but  we  take 
an  interest  sometimes,  even  in  things  that  may  be  nothing  to 
you." 

"  Oh,  now,  I'm  sure  you'll  scold  me  again  for  not  telling  you 
sooner !     How  silly  of  me  to  mention  it  at  all." 

"I  call  all  here  to  witness  that  I  am  the  meanest  and 
humblest  of  your  subjects.  I  could  no  more  presume  to  find 
fault—" 

"Well  then,  it  was  you  I've  seen  out  of  the  body  at  night, 
two  or  three  times." 

"Me!" 

"  You  were  fast  asleep  in  the  astral  body,  as  much  as  in  the 
physical  body  at  the  time,  I  suppose ;  but  you  were  as  real  to 
me  one  way  as  the  other." 

"But  where  did  you  see  met    I  don't  understand  now." 

"In  my  room,  of  course.  I  woke  up,  feeling  there  was 
something  near  me,  and  there  you  were,  standing  dazed  and 
fast  asleep  by  the  stove.  You'd  come  floating  in  through  the 
wall,  in  a  most  unbusiness-like  manner;  for  you  went  back 
that  way  when  I  put  my  will  against  you,  instead  of  out  of  the 
window  naturally — like  any  one  used  to  going  about  in  the 
astral" 


▲   VOICE   FEOM   ABOVB.  213 

"  But  this  is  really  most  extraordinary,"  said  the  Professor. 
"My  dear  ^Mrs.  Lakesby,  how  is  it  possible  that  you  should 
have  noticed  this  and — " 

"  There  I  I  call  all  here  to  witness  if  I'm  not  being  scolded 
again." 

" — and  have  so  graciously  and  kindly  remembered  to  tell 
ns,"  said  the  Professor,  giving  his  sentence  a  diiBferent  turn  from 
that  first  intended.  "  We  thank  your  Majesty  most  humbly 
and  gratefully.  But  if  only  at  the  time  you  had  seen  fit  to  wake 
me,  in  the  astral  body,  so  that  I  might  have  had  the  invaluable 
experience  of  finding  myself  conscious  in  that  condition,  my 
gratitude,  personally,  would  have  been  even  greater." 

'*  I  wouldn't  have  done  that  for  the  world.  You  might  have 
been  unable  to  get  back  again,  and  I  couldn't  have  helped  you. 
You  might  never  have  got  back  at  aU." 

"The  whole  subject  is  so  mysterious  that  I  can't  give  an 
opinion,  of  course ;  but  I  authorize  you  most  completely  to  run 
any  risk  there  may  be  another  time,  and  wake  me  up  if  you 
can." 

Mrs.  Lakesby  declined  to  undertake  any  such  commission, 
and  the  Baron,  appealed  to,  was  rather  of  opinion  that  she 
exercised  a  wise  discretion  in  the  matter.  After  a  good  deal  of 
miscellaneous  conversation  on  the  subject  of  such  unconscious 
wandering  away  from  the  body  by  the  people  who  were  not 
clairvoyant,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word,  the  original  ques- 
tion came  to  the  surface  again.  It  was  somewhat  cooler  that 
evening  than  it  had  been  the  last,  and  the  Baron  thought  it 
quite  unnecessary  that  they  should  sit  out  on  the  terrace.  It 
would  be  all  the  better,  indeed,  for  Mrs.  Lakesby  that  she 
should  remain  indoors.  If  she  were  not  disturbed  by  too  great 
a  glare  of  light  in  her  face — that  was  all  that  mattered.  It 
was  arranged  that  they  should  sit  that  evening  in  the  drawing- 
room. 

"  But  there  isn't  any  sort  of  hurry,"  Mrs.  Lakesby  urged ; 
"  you  can  all  go  and  have  your  cigars  and  coffee  at  leisure.  In 
an  hour  is  time  enough  for  us  to  begin." 

**  Cigars  and  coffee  !  "  said  Blane.  "  How  can  we  think  of 
contemptible  creature-comforts  in  the  midst  of  the  experiences 
we  are  having  here.  I'm  sure,  in  the  future,  when  we  look 
back  on  this  ever-to-be-memorable  visit,  we  shall  despise  our- 
selyes  for  having  stooped  even  to  spend  time  in  eating  or  sleep." 


214  KABMA. 

"  But  since  we  have  been  eating,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby,  •*  I 
think  I'd  rather  wait  a  little  first  before  I  go  to  ancient  Rome 
again." 

"  There's  good  sense  in  that,  I'm  sure,"  said  Captain  Miller ; 
"particularly  considering  the  stupendous  dinner  you've  been 
having." 

Mrs.  Lakesby's  habits  at  table  were  of  the  very  soberest  and 
simplest,  as  she  ate  but  very  slightly  of  the  plainest  food,  and 
never  drank  wine,  so  the  Captain's  little  joke  required  no  com- 
ment, and  the  gentlemen  went  upstairs  to  the  smoking-room. 
Then,  towards  the  latter  end  of  the  evening,  the  Baron  went  on 
to  his  own  turret  chamber,  sending  messages  of  farewell  to  the 
ladies,  and  then  the  Professor  and  the  rest  descended  to  the 
drawing-room  with  a  few  very  simple  instructions  as  to  how 
they  were  to  proceed.  Mrs.  Lakesby  was  to  be  made  comfort- 
able on  a  sofa,  and  warmly  covered  up.  That  was  all  that 
mattered.  The  light  was  to  be  subdued,  and  then  they  could 
wait  to  see  what  happened. 

A  very  short  time  elapsed  after  these  arrangements  were  made 
when  Mrs.  Lakesby,  who  showed  no  inclination  that  evening 
to  tease  the  rest  by  making  fun  of  the  situation,  betrayed  to 
the  now  experienced  observation  of  her  friends  that  her  atten- 
tion was  attracted  by  some  abnormal  appearance.  Her  large 
eyes  were  fixed  steadily  on  a  picture  hanging  against  the  waU 
she  faced,  and  the  others  instinctively  watched  it  too. 

"That's  odd,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby.  "I'm  not  gone  away  in 
the  least.  No  one  has  come  to  fetch  me — but  still  I'm  be- 
ginning to  see  things." 

"AATiatsortof  things  1" 

"  A  kind  of  a  room,  with  books  about,  and  an  old  man  read- 
ing. I  seem  to  feel  as  if  the  room  were  not  strange,  but  I 
don't  know  where  it  is." 

"  Does  this  hinge  on  to  what  you  saw  last  night — is  the  room 
like  the  Flamen's  library  1 " 

"Good  gracious,  no!  not  in  the  least.  This  is  quite  a 
modem  sort  of  a  room — though  a  bit  old-fashioned ;  and  the 
books  are  printed  books  Hke  ours.  What's  the  old  man  got  to 
do  with  us,  I  wonder  ?  It's  no  time  ago  at  all,  to  speak  of,  I'm 
sure — only  a  few  years.  The  old  man  has  got  a  dressing-gown 
on,  and  a  velvet  cap,  and  slippers.  Now  he  looks  up,  and  I  can 
see  his  face.     How  very  old  be  is  to  be  sure — a  hundred  at 


A   VOIOB    FROM   ABOVE.  215 

least.  Ah  I  now  I  begin  to  nnderstand  a  little  more.  Some  one 
is  showing  me  signs  to  explain  who  the  old  man  is.  I  wonder 
who  it  is  doing  this  !     I  can't  see  any  one  but  the  old  man." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  signs  ? " 

The  Professor  had,  as  before,  taken  up  the  role  of  questioner. 

"  I  see  cabalistic  signs  over  his  head.  He  is  a  great  student 
of  the  occult  sciences — the  old  man  is  evidently.  Now  he  is 
showing  me  books  that  the  old  man  has  written — three,  four, 
five  of  them.     I  wish  I  knew  who  it  was  doing  this." 

Then  she  laughed  a  little. 

"  Vv^'hat  are  you  laughing  at  t  '* 

"  Why  he  made  the  leaves  of  one  of  the  books  flutter  over, 
and  they  are  all  blank.  I  suppose  he  means  there  is  not  much 
to  be  learned  from  them.  But  now  he  shows  a  crown  for  a 
moment  over  the  old  man's  head.     What  does  that  mean  1 " 

"What  a  singular  way  of  conveying  information." 

"  Now  the  old  man  leans  his  head  forward  on  his  arms  over 
the  table.  Is  he  asleep  or  dying?  All  the  books  and  the 
room  are  fading  away ;  but  I  still  see  the  old  man's  figure — all 
sunk  together  somehow.  I'm  sure  it  means  that  he  is  dead. 
There's  the  crown  still  hovering  over  him,  brighter  than  ever. 
Goodness !  how  strange.     Now  it's  all  gone." 

The  clairvoyant  looked  round  at  her  companions,  still  quite 
in  possession  of  her  usual  faculties. 

"  What  does  all  that  mean  ? "  she  said  wondering.  "  Just  as 
the  old  man's  figure  grew  indistinct  the  crown  seemed  to  settle 
down  on  him  for  a  moment ;  and  through  it,  as  it  were,  there 
floated  up  the  small  figure  of  a  child,  that  floated  right  up  and 
disappeared." 

"  That's  a  highly  symbolical  vision,"  remarked  Blane,  "  with  a 
great  deal  of  meaning,  I  suspect.  It  clearly  emphasizes  the  re- 
birth of  the  old  man  ;  but  the  bare  idea  of  such  a  rebirth  is  not 
new  to  us.  It  evidently  means  that  there  is  something  very 
special  attaching  to  the  rebirth  of  the  old  man.  But  we  don't 
know  who  he  is.  Are  we  intended  to  find  an  identity  for  him 
amongst  some  of  the  people  we  know  ? " 

"  There  is  no  clue,  that  I  can  see,"  said  the  Professor.  "  An 
old  man  who  has  been  a  student  of  the  occult  science,  and  is 
born  again,  is  not  much  to  go  by.  We  have  no  hint  about 
character.' 

The  problem  was  discussed  in  its  various  bearings  for  some 
16 


216  KAEMA. 

time  without  leading  to  any  very  definite  result,  and,  the  con- 
versation having  become  general,  no  one  noticed  that  Mrs. 
Lakesby  had  leaned  back  again  on  her  sofa,  in  the  position  in 
which  she  had  first  been  established,  and  from  which  she  had  sat 
up  to  look  at  her  vision.  Suddenly  interrupting  Mrs.  Miller, 
who  was  speaking  at  the  moment,  she  said,  in  a  full  loud  voice, 
though  in  rather  deeper  tones  than  she  generally  used, — 

"  Listen  ! " 

The  injunction  silenced  the  conversation,  and  with  a  thrill  of 
interest  they  all  looked  at  their  clairvoyant,  who  again  pre- 
sented the  appearance  of  the  previous  evening,  and  lay  with  her 
eyes  closed,  apparently  in  a  deep  sleep.  The  authoritative  com- 
mand to  "  listen "  set  them  straining  their  ears  to  catch  some 
distant  sound  or  voice,  but  in  a  few  seconds  Mrs.  Lakesby  spoke 
again,  still  in  the  somewhat  unusual  voice  in  which  she  had 
begun. 

"  There  are  two  among  you  here  who  may  do  good  service, 
if  they  will,  to  their  fellow-men,  and  to  the  cause  of  truth,  and 
the  spread  of  that  knowledge  which  the  world  needs  so  urgently 
to  save  it  from  spiritual  death — " 

Captain  Miller,  who  had  quietly  provided  himself  with  paper 
and  pencil  to  take  notes  of  the  descriptions  Mrs.  Lakesby  had 
been  expected  to  give,  began  to  scribble  a  record  of  the  strange 
speech  thus  commenced.  It  was  spoken  so  slowly  and  em- 
phatically that  he  was  able  to  take  down  its  sense  completely, 
and  almost  the  exact  words. 

"Only  if  they  were, — what  they  are  not, — would  they  be 
able  fully  to  realize  why  they  have  been  chosen  to  have  this 
opportunity  of  doing  a  grand  work  ;  for  in  their  hearts  they 
may  know  of  failings  that  will  seem  to  disqualify  them  to 
some  extent  from  playing  the  part  now  ofi'ered  to  them,  in 
awakening  other  men,  better  qualified  by  purity  of  life  and 
spirituality  of  nature,  as  the  world  judges  such  things,  to  enter 
on  the  life  of  sacrifice,  and  self-denial,  and  suffering,  which  leads 
to  the  only  triimiph  that  is  real,  and  the  only  reward  that  wise 
men  should  care  for,  and  the  only  happiness  that  is  not  illusory. 
It  is  the  law  of  Karma  which  you  are  aU  trying  to  comprehend, 
which  invests  them  with  the  privilege  of  holding  up  the  lamp 
to  show  their  companions  the  right  path  amidst  the  obscurities 
of  physical  knowledge,  amidst  the  entanglements  of  the  unreal 
and  the  transitory  impressions  of  sense.  One  of  those  of  whom  I 


A   VOIOB    PROM   ABOVB.  217 

especially  speak — for  all  here  present,  in  varying  degrees,  may 
take  a  part  in  the  work  to  be  done — will  shortly  have  to 
undergo  some  humiliations  in  the  sight  of  the  world.  It  is  a 
penalty  he  will  have  to  pay  for  indulgences  that  have  been 
enjoyed  and  laws  of  the  physical  life  that  he  has  set  at  nought. 
But  no  pictures  that  can  be  shown  to  this  woman,  will  explain 
the  nature  of  the  Karma,  which  gives  him  the  right  to  emerge, 
if  he  will,  from  the  slough  of  lower  affinities  on  to  the  higher 
plane  of  existence  to  which  he  partly  belongs,  by  helping  others 
to  reach  that  plane  with  him.  He  says  he  is  curious  to  know 
the  facts  of  his  bygone  personal  history.  Some  he  may  be 
enabled  to  collect,  but  the  most  important  are  those  which  have 
to  do  with  his  own  intellectual  growth,  which  no  outward  facts 
he  may  now  look  back  upon  will  illuminate.  For  several  in- 
carnations in  the  past  his  spiritual  aspirations,  borne  downward 
by  worldly  ambitions,  have  masked  themselves  in  intellectual 
growth.  For,  remember,  that  what  you  call  great  mental  facul- 
ties are  faculties  of  spirit  deeply  buried  in  matter  disguised  in 
their  application,  in  their  almost  exclusive  application  to  the 
purposes  of  the  most  unreal,  that  is  to  say  the  most  evanescent, 
plane  of  natural  manifestation, — that  which  to  the  blinded  eye- 
sight of  the  flesh  appears  the  only  one.  This  man's  Ego  may 
be  likened  to  one  of  your  rivers  which  bore  their  way  under- 
ground, and  which  sometimes  fail  altogether  to  re-emerge  into 
the  light  of  day  in  one  complete  stream, — but  streams  like  these 
may  burst  forth  afresh  altogether  in  the  sunlight.  The  humilia- 
tion in  store  for  him  that  I  spoke  of  just  now  may  be  likened 
to  the  turbid  impurities  of  a  torrent  breaking  from  the  moun- 
tains, that  may  settle  and  leave  the  stream  clear  as  it  proceeds. 
But,  dropping  the  metaphor,  his  own  spiritual  future  will  de- 
pend upon  the  spirit  in  which  he  meets  this  crisis  in  his  life, 
and  on  the  use  he  makes  of  the  great  opportunity  now  within 
his  reach.  Some  suffering  there  must  be, — there  must  always 
be  suffering  where  there  has  been  wrong,  where  there  has  been 
ignorance,  where  there  has  been  selfishness,  where  there  haa 
been  effort  made  to  gather  in  and  jealously  consume  happi- 
ness, instead  of  effort  to  expand  and  pour  it  out  for  the 
good  of  others ; — but  suffering  of  that  sort  is  only  to  be  con- 
quered by  endurance  :  the  law  of  Karma  may  be  hard  to  study, 
but  it  is  still  harder  to  cheat" 


218  KABMA. 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  MYSTERIES   OF   KARMA. 

Spell-bound,  though  in  a  very  different  way  from  that  of  the 
previous  evening,  the  audience  round  the  sofa  listened  with 
rapt  attention,  and  with  a  strange  sense  of  awe.  For,  though 
the  lips  that  spoke  the  words  they  heard  were  those  of  their 
familiar  friend,  the  whole  style  and  flavour  of  the  address  was 
so  utterly  unlike  her  own  mode  of  expression  that  the  percep- 
tion of  a  different  personality  speaking  in  some  way  through 
her,  was  borne  in  on  their  minds  quite  irresistibly.  The  pre- 
vious evening  her  own  phrases  and  idioms  had  been  preserved 
all  the  while.  It  had  been  Mrs.  Lakesby  speaking,  though 
Mrs.  Lakesby  in  a  clairvoyant  trance.  But  now  there  was  no 
Mrs.  Lakesby  left  in  the  case  at  all,  except  as  far  as  the  body 
which  lay  on  the  sofa  was  concerned.  The  soul  animating  it 
had  apparently  been  quite  metamorphosed.  And  this  change 
had  a  singularly  weird  effect. 

She  had  paused  for  some  half-minute  after  the  words  last  set 
down.  Then  she  went  on,  perfect  silence  having  been  main- 
tained in  the  interval  by  her  listeners : — 

"  I  do  not  beat  about  the  bush  in  saying  this,  for  the  man  ia 
strong  and  able  to  hear  truth,  though  hitherto  in  more  than  one 
incarnation  he  has  been  using  that  strength  to  command  others 
rather  than  to  school  himself.  As  this  woman  said  last  night, 
those  he  has  spoken  to,  have  known  what  they  had  to  do ;  but  he 
has  forgotten  to  speak  to  himself,  so  he  has  not  known.  And 
there  is  another  man  among  you  who  has  let  opportunities  pass 
by  him  more  than  once  before  this  time,  and  has  stood  by 
dreaming  while  they  floated  out  of  his  reach.  Will  he  seize 
this  one  ?  Blane,  my  friend,  you  have  never  seriously  sinned 
against  any  human  being  but  yourself,  but  this  is  not  the  first 
time  I  have  come  to  you,  though  it  may  be  the  first  time  you 
can  at  this  moment  remember,  and  I  have  found  you  always  fit 
but  never  ready.  But  good  Karma  is  patient,  and  it  waits  for 
you  still,  but  it  can  only  give  you  chances.  Command  over 
others  has  as  little  attraction  for  you  now  as  the  last  time,  when 
you  dreamed  away  one  physical  existence  in  the  blameless 
negation  of  a  monastery,  or  as  when  before  then,  in  the  vortex 


THE  MYSTERIES  OP  KAEMA.         219 

of  that  physical  life  which  has  so  many  correspondences  with 
this  in  which  you  all  are  now  immorsed,  you  lived  amidst  the 
pitch  and  were  not  defiled.  But  one  may  even  be  too  fastidious 
in  regard  to  defilement  down  in  that  seething  cauldron  of  life 
you  call  the  world.  Fix  your  will  upon  the  essence  and  not 
the  show  of  things,  and  do  not  fear  to  stand  beside  whatsoever 
can  truly  serve  humanity,  which  is  your  cause,  and  mine,  and 
that  of  all  of  us,  even  though  you  seem  to  share  the  stains 
upon  his  hands  and  garments.  The  stream  of  your  intellectual 
growth  has  never  gone  underground ;  its  spiritual  quality  is 
scarcely  masked  at  all,  or  only  so  far  as  may  be  necessary  for  its 
expression  on  that  plane  of  existence,  but  there  has  come  a 
time  when  it  should  no  longer  run  to  waste. 

"  I  have  nearly  done ;  for  I  must  do  no  more  than  hint, 
suggest,  awaken  thought,  and  leave  with  you  all  in  your  several 
degrees  the  duty  of  action,  the  choice  of  means.  The  genius 
of  your  age  is  boring  down  when  it  might  soar  upward ;  it  is 
wearing  itself  out  against  the  hard  rock  when  it  might  expand 
into  splendid  growths  of  a  superior  race,  if  its  forces  were 
trained  into  the  right  direction.  Many  efforts  are  being  made 
to  guide  its  evolution  into  the  true  path  of  progress.  The 
sooner  this  is  done  the  better  for  individuals  concerned,  even 
though  the  final  result  must  come  about  sooner  or  later — the 
sooner,  then  the  less  suffering.  For  ignorance  of  nature  is  the 
source  of  all  suffering,  and  there  is  no  ignorance  so  fatal,  so 
disastrous,  as  knowledge  of  only  one  side.  Work  to  obliterate 
that  ignorance.  Struggle,  and  if  necessary  suffer,  to  minimize 
suffering;  and  learn  to  apply  the  most  occult  truth  of  all 
enshrouded  in  that  occult  science  which  fascinates  so  many 
mimls,  which  it  fails  to  penetrate, — that  the  highest  knowledge 
must  be  sought  in  the  highest  self-abnegation,  in  the  highest 
spiiitual  philanthropy. 

'*  And  now,  since  I  see  that  the  very  faithful  pencil  of  my 
good  secretary  yonder  has  fairly  well  recorded  this  poor  homily 
of  mine,  I  will  ask  him  to  bring  his  notes  over,  and  put  them 
under  this  woman's  hand  a  moment,  and  I  will  affix  my  mark» 
which  at  any  rate  will  have  some  meaning  for  your  friend  the 
Baron,  and  may  usefully  be  known  by  you — so  long  as  you  take 
care  not  to  let  that  little  morsel  of  phantasmagorial  knowledge 
on  the  physical  plane  grow  useless  by  too  wide  a  dissemination." 

Juat  as  neither  the  Professor  nor  Blane,  when  they  had  been 


220  KABKA. 

especially  addressed  during  this  strange  speech,  had  nttered  any 

words  in  reply,  so  Captain  Miller  took  the  reference  to  himself 
in  silence ;  but  as  soon  as  he  had  finished  writing  the  last  words 
he  brought  the  last  piece  of  the  paper  on  which  he  had  been 
writing,  and  stood,  rather  uncertain  how  to  act,  beside  the  sofa, 
on  which  Mrs.  Lakesby  lay  still  in  a  profound  trance.  Blane 
hastily  got  a  book,  to  put  under  the  paper  for  her  to  write  upon, 
and  Captain  Miller  tried  to  put  the  pencil  between  her  fingers, 
as  they  lay  upon  the  rug  which  had  been  thrown  over  her 
body.  With  a  vague  and  awkward  movement  she  pushed  this 
aside,  and  let  her  hand  fall  open  on  the  paper.  It  rested  there 
for  a  few  moments,  and  then,  as  she  drew  it  away,  they  all  saw 
that  a  peculiar  hieroglyphic  or  monogram,  as  though  written 
with  blue  pencil,  had  appeared  on  the  spot  her  hand  had  covered. 

She  drew  her  hand  slowly  up  to  her  face,  and  rubbed  it 
across  her  eyes  and  forehead,  then  rolled  her  head  on  the  pillow 
from  side  to  side  ;  and  then,  turning  over  on  her  side  altogether, 
was  troubled  with  a  short  fit  of  coughing,  out  of  which  she 
emerged  her  own  usual  self,  remarking  that  it  was  too  bad, 
altogether. 

"  What  is  too  bad,  dear  I  **  asked  Mrs.  Miller,  kneeling  down 
beside  her  with  the  kind  of  adoring  impulse  so  apt  to  assert 
itself  among  beholders  towards  a  person  in  whom  psychic  gifts 
of  a  high  order  exhibit  themselves. 

"  To  be  hustled  off  like  that  in  the  middle  of  watching  them 
at  play.  What's  the  use  of  taking  me  all  that  way  if  I'm  not 
to  stop  and  see  something  ?" 

Her  remarks  were  so  up  in  the  air  and  unconnected  with 
what  had  been  going  on  that  Blane  and  the  Professor  could  only 
look  at  one  another  in  bewilderment. 

"  My  dearest  Agatha,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  "  what  on  earth  do 
you  mean  1 " 

"  Why,  Flaccus  and  his  friends  were  having  a  game  at  ball 
together.  It  was  such  fun  to  see  them.  Didn't  I  tell  you  about 
thatr 

"  Why  no,  of  course  not ;  you  have  simply  been  speaking  to 
us  or  some  one  else — " 

"  Pardon  me  for  interrupting  you,"  said  the  Professor,  "  but 
we  can  tell  Mrs.  Lakesby  all  she  said  afterwards.  First  let  us 
hear  what  she  now  remembers.  It  is  most  important  to  secure 
all  that  before  it  escapes  from  her  recollection.  *' 


THB   MYSTERIES   OF  KABMA.  221 

•*  I  simply  was  called  by  the  same  one  that  took  me  away  last 
night,  and  was  getting  some  more  visions  of  the  same  sort.  I 
never  thought  of  you,  of  course,  at  the  time,  but  didn't  I  talk 
to  you  about  them  like  last  night !  Didn't  you  ask  me  ques- 
tions 1 " 

"  Your  faculties  have  been  duplicated  in  some  extraordinary 
manner,"  said  the  Professor ;  **  we  will  tell  you  all  about  that 
directly,  but  meanwhile  do  please  now  go  over  all  you  saw. 
What  did  you  see  first  t " 

"  I  saw  that  old  man  of  the  chair,  that  you  said  to-day  must 
have  been  a  Consul.  He  was  standing  in  the  midst  of  a  large 
party  of  people,  women  as  well  as  men,  all  handsomely  dressed, 
and  he  was  talking  to  one  of  the  women,  a  young  woman,  quite 
a  girl,  paying  her  compliments  and  making  her  laugh,  and  yet  I 
could  see  by  his  aura  that  he  was  sad  and  angry  at  heart.  I 
have  got  a  notion  that  the  young  woman  was  a  bride  and  that 
the  party  was  a  marriage-party.  Then  a  young  man  joined 
them  and  treated  the  Consul  in  a  very  deferential  manner,  but 
drew  away  the  woman  after  a  little  while,  and  then  the  vision 
faded,  and  I  saw  a  number  of  young  men,  with  very  little  on, 
playing  ball  in  a  big,  empty  room.  There  was  Flaccus  among 
the  number,  and  he  seemed  to  be  enjoying  himself  greatly ;  but, 
just  as  I  was  beginning  to  ask  who  the  others  were,  my  com- 
panion hustled  me  away  without  ceremony,  merely  saying,  I 
remember,  *  Can't  stop  any  longer  now.  Master's  going.'  What 
on  earth  did  he  mean  by  '  Master's  going '  1 " 

At  another  time,  perhaps — since  the  Professor  had  been  so 
plainly  identified,  in  the  mysterious  speech  that  had  just  been 
delivered,  with  the  Consul  of  Mrs.  Lakesby's  Koman  visions — 
there  might  have  been  some  disposition  among  his  friends  to 
banter  him  about  having  been  given,  even  in  his  former  incar- 
nation, to  paying  compliments  to  the  ladies.  This  was  a  trait 
of  his  modern  character  asserting  itself  in  a  former  life  as  well. 
But  the  solemnity  of  the  address  they  had  received  left  its  im- 
pression on  their  feelings,  and  the  opening  for  badinage  was 
disregarded. 

The  course  of  events,  as  regarded  her  own  trance,  was  related 
to  Mrs.  Lakesby,  and  the  Captain's  record  of  the  words  that 
had  issued  from  her  lips  was  read  over  to  her.  Of  these  she 
retained  no  trace  of  recollection  whatever. 

*'  How  should  she)"  the  Professor  pointed  out.    **It  k  all 

16 


222  CABMA. 

intelligible  enough  now.  We  are  familiar  with  the  fact  that 
her  own  soul  leaves  her  body  altogether  under  such  circum- 
stances as  we  have  had  to-nigLt,  and  what  has  evidently  oc- 
curred has  been  this :  While  her  soul  was  far  away  in  the 
custody  of  one  of  the  extraordinary  beings  who  are  interesting 
themselves  in  our  proceedings  just  now,  her  body  was  made 
the  vehicle  of  an  address  to  us  from  some  other  of  them. 
His  identity,  even,  will  be  apparent  to  the  Baron,  when 
we  describe  what  has  taken  place,  for  we  have  got  his  signa- 
ture." 

"  I  wonder,  is  anything  more  going  to  happen  to-night  1 " 
inquired  Captain  Miller. 

"  What  we  have  had  has  not  taken  long,"  Blane  remarked, 
"  but  it  has  been  very  suggestive.*' 

"  Very  1 "  said  the  Professor,  who  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  room,  profoundly  revolving  the  situation  in  his  own 
mind.  "The  smallest  of  these  visions,  I  am  persuaded,  is 
thrown  in  our  way  for  a  purpose.  Even  so  little  a  thing  as 
that  last  about  Flaccus  in  the  sphseristerium — " 

"  In  the  what  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Lakesby. 

"You  see  the  living  reality,  dear  lady,  and  call  it  play- 
ing at  balL  Dusty  scholars  find  it  a  long  name,  but  the  same 
thing  is  meant.  The  parting  glimpse  of  him  afforded  to  us 
emphasizes  the  physical  importance  of  the  Karma  he  engendered 
during  his  Roman  time,  and  that  we  know,  with  Annerly,  has 
produced  very  decisive  effects  on  his  present  incarnation.  In 
my  own  case,  physical  Karma  does  not  seem  to  have  been 
specially  operative.  The  Consul  was  an  ordinary  sort  of 
man,  apparently,  in  physique,  and  I  am  an  ordinary  sort  of 
man.  But  there  aie  points  in  what  we  have  heard  that  to  me 
are  very  suggestive." 

"  Oh,  I  was  nearly  forgetting,"  said  l^Irs.  Lakesby  ;  **  it 
suddenly  comes  back  to  me." 

"  What  was  that  ?  "  asked  the  Professor  keenly. 

"  It  was  not  about  you — it  was  Pabian." 

"  Oh,  I  do  trust,  Mrs.  Lakesby,"  cried  Merland,  "  that  you 
saw  Fabian,  this  time,  at  some  good,  downright  mischief.  I 
assure  you  you  will  not  link  him  with  my  personality  unless 
you  did." 

"  Fabian,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby,  sitting  up  and  looking  at  him 
earnestly,  "  you  were  not  at  any  kind  of  mischief,  I  assure  you. 


THB   MYSTEBIES   OF   EABMA*  223 

Dear  me,  how  vividly  I  remember  it  again  now,  though  it  was 

only  just  a  picture." 

•'Oh,  what  was  itt"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  as  the  clairvoyant 
paused. 

"  Poor  Fabian  1 "  Blane  said.  "  Has  he  been  detected  in 
some  new  good  deeds  1  I  can  understand  that.  Merland's 
delicacy  of  feeling  is  now  rather  put  to  the  blush,  but,  at  the 
same  time,  others  of  us  will  wish  we  had  half  his  complaint." 

"  He  was  sitting  by  a  girl's  bedside  reading  to  her  or  telling 
her  something  out  of  a  book  on  his  knees.  But  she  was  not 
a  beautiful  girl  at  all,  almost  a  child,  and  very  plain  and 
withered-looking,  very  ill  evidently.  Fabian  was  holding  her 
hand  and  talking  to  her;  and  she  was  looking  at  him  so 
wistfully  in  spite  of  her  ugliness  and  illness,  the  thought  of 
her  was  quite  beautiful.  Her  aura  was  so  clear  and  good. 
But  the  room  was  a  poor  room;  it  was  a  miserable  sort  of 
scene  altogether." 

"Well,  at  all  events,"  said  Merland,  "it's  a  mercy  my 
patient  was  a  girl  There  seems  a  shade  less  of  goodi-goodiness 
in  my  proceedings  that  way — if  you  will  have  it  that  it  was 
I, — ^which  I  cannot  feel  to  be  the  case  at  aU." 

"It's  better  to  have  been  doing  good  among  your  fellow 
creatures,  anyhow,"  said  Blane,  "  than  to  have  been  a  useless 
fool  of  a  monk." 

"Now,  do  not  let  us  contemplate  any  of  these  problems," 
the  Professor  urged,  "with  personal  feelings.  They  are  all 
given  to  us  for  the  sake  of  the  knowledge  they  convey.  And 
do  you  observe,"  he  went  on,  addressing  the  company  generally, 
as  he  continued  to  walk  about  the  room,  "  what  a  large  part  in 
Karma  is  evidently  played  in  all  our  cases — in  all  except 
Blane's  case,  as  far  as  we  know  it  yet — by  our  relations  with 
women.     What  a  determining  force  that  seems  to  be." 

"  In  a  negative  way  my  case  bears  out  what  you  say,"  put  in 
Blane,  "  for  my  Karma  does  not  seem  to  have  had  much  to  do 
with  women ;  while,  also,  with  the  colourless  and  useless  life  I 
have  led — " 

There  was  a  general  outbreak  of  laughter  at  this ;  the  hxst 
words  were  uttered  with  so  much  grim  sincerity,  while  the 
feeling  all  Ms  friends  entertained  towards  Blane  was  one  of 
such  strong  affection,  that  there  seemed  something  absurd  in 
the  abuse  he  was  levelling  against  the  nature  of  his  own  life. 


224  rAUVA, 

"  — What  are  you  laughing  at  t  ** 

**  My  dear  WiUy,**  said  Mrs.  Miller,  who  gave  Blane  hre vet- 
rank  as  her  cousin  occasionally,  "  if  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a 
universal  favourite,  who  is  not  entitled  to  talk  in  a  misan- 
thropical way — '* 

**  I  am  not  misanthropical ;  I  am  merely  recording  facts.  I 
may  he  a  fool  for  my  pains,  perhaps,  but  as  a  fact  women  have 
not  been  the  main  interest  of  my  life ;  of  course  I  do  not 
assert  that  it  has  had  any  main  interest — "  this  provoked  a 
reversal  of  friendly  jeers,  but  Blane  got  to  the  end  of  his  ex- 
planation none  the  less — "  and  it  would  seem  that  I  am  the 
only  person  whose  Kaima  has  not  been  associated  with  women, 
as  far  as  we  know." 

"  Blane's  argument,"  said  the  Professor,  "  is  perfectly  sound 
and  important.  Let  us  be  serious  about  all  this.  It  is  far  too 
interesting  for  chafil" 

"  But  seriously,"  said  Merland,  "  there  are  flaws  in  the  argu- 
ment which  associates  Fabian's  personality  with  mine.  I  won't 
be  affected  about  the  matter,  but  will  speak  of  it  as  if  a  third 
person  were  concerned.  I  am  represented  as  having  been  a 
very  good  person  in  my  last  incarnation,  and  therefore  as  now 
being  very  fortunately  circumstanced;  and  no  doubt  you 
assume  that  happy  destinies  are  awaiting  me  in  connection 
with  women  to  match  my  reputed  merit  in  regard  to  the  sick 
child  and  so  forth.  Now  I  would  not  make  the  statement  I 
am  going  to  make  if  it  were  not  for  the  importance  of  our 
studies  in  this  matter,  but  you  must  believe  me  when  I  assure 
you  that  all  conjectures  of  that  sort  will  necessarily  prove 
wrong.  I  would  rather  not  go  into  details ;  but  I  assure  you 
that  my  future,  though  faij  in  some  of  its  aspects,  does  not  lie 
before  me  as  likely  to  be  a  happy  one  at  all,  and  most  assuredly 
it  will  not  be  made  happy  by  any  woman.  If  my  fixed  deter- 
mination can  control  it  it  will  be  altogether  concerned  with  a 
life-long  devotion  to  occult  science." 

"  "Well,"  said  the  Professor,  after  a  little  interval, "  no  one 
should  be  called  upon  to  lay  bare,  even  for  an  analysis  of  this 
sort,  incidents  in  his  life  which  are  of  quite  a  private  nature. 
But  I  confess  for  me  the  Fabian  hypothesis  is  one  I  cannot 
reject  in  spite  of  what  you  say.  Its  incongruities  may  somehow 
explain  themselves  later.  An.  entire  stranger  would  not  under- 
stand our  position  in  this  business  at  all.    But  we  have  ali 


THE  PROFESSOR  IN  TROUBLl.         225 

been  led  from  one  thing  to  another ;  and  I  feel  just  as  sure 
that  these  visions  of  Mrs.  Lakesby  are  regulated  by  some  very 
powerful  beings,  with  a  definite  purpose,  as  that  she  is  not 
merely  inventing  them  as  she  goes  along,  as  any  self-confident 
outsider,  knowing  nothing  of  our  surroundings,  might  suggest. 
We  have  been  told  something  now  about  four  distinct  lines  of 
Kanna,  and  three  of  them  at  all  events — I  think  all  four — are 
borne  in  on  the  imderstanding  as  harmonious  with  the  obvious 
interpretations." 

"But  do  you  not  forget,"  said  Merland,  "what  we  heard 
this  morning  about  Annerly  t " 

"  I  do  not  forget  that  at  all,  but  I  trust  to  the  Karmic  indica- 
tion more  than  to  the  appearance  of  his  present  engagement. 
I  am  sorry  to  feel  that  this  engagement  is  not  likely  to  turn  out 
for  his  happiness  or  welfare." 

The  conversation  was  prolonged,  on  these  lines,  till  a  late 
hour,  but  no  further  manifestations  of  clairvoyance  took  place 
that  night. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  PROFESSOR  IN  TROUBLH. 

Among  the  letters  which  arrived  at  the  castle  the  following 
morning  was  a  long-shaped  packet  for  the  Professor,  in  a  blue 
envelope,  addressed  in  a  formal  hand.  He  looked  over  its  con- 
tents standing  by  the  window,  while  those  of  the  company  who 
had  already  assembled  were  gathered  in  another  part  of  the 
room,  and,  putting  it  away  in  his  pocket,  joined  them  for 
breakfast,  and  talked  and  joked  in  his  usual  manner.  After 
breakfast,  however,  he  sought  a  private  conversation  with  the 
Baron,  and,  going  with  him  into  the  library,  announced  that  he 
had  received  Lews  that  morning  which  he  thought  it  his  duty 
to  communicate  to  the  Baron,  as  his  host  at  Heiligenf  els,  without 
delay. 

"  Lady  Emily  Massilton,"  he  said,   "  has  instituted  proceed- 
ings against  me  for  divorce.     Lady  Emily,  in  fact,  must  have 

Q 


226  laBMA. 

been  conducting  her  proceedings,  while  still  of  the  preparatory 
order,  from  under  this  roof  ;  which  appears  to  me  to  have  been 
a  departure  from  good  taste — ^but  that  is  a  detail.  First  of  all, 
does  this  information  take  you  very  much  by  surprise  'i " 

"It  gives  me,  perhaps,"  said  the  Baron,  "more  pain  than 
surprise.  I  believed  that  something  of  the  kind  would  have  to 
be  gone  through." 

"  Of  course  you  mean  that  by  some  occult  channel  of  know- 
ledge you  got  that  impression  1 " 

"  Quite  so." 

"  Well,  about  the  case  on  its  merits  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
talk  to  you  at  length ;  but  the  duty  before  me  for  the  moment 
appears  clear.  Once  formally  commenced,  I  suppose  the  fact 
that  this  suit  has  been  set  on  foot  may  become  public  property 
any  day.  The  society  papers  may  be  announcing  it  as  we  speak. 
It  will  be  possible  that  people  will  form  judgments  in  the 
matter  unfavourable  to  me,  and  it  may  be  embarrassing  for  you 
and  your  friends  that  I  should  be  your  guest  any  longer  under 
these  circumstances ;  and,  deeply  as  I  regret  having  to  abandon 
the  inquiries  on  which  we  are  engaged,  I  propose  to  leave  this 
house  at  once." 

"  Who  of  the  party  here,  do  you  think,  would  resent  your 
further  stay  ? " 

"  First  of  all,  the  person  best  entitled  to  do  so  would  be 
yourself." 

"  ISTy  dear  Professor,  though  I  have  latterly  been  a  visitor  to 
your  world,  I  am  not  of  it.  My  judgments  of  men  are  not 
much  governed  by  externals.  To  be  quite  candid,  I  daresay 
there  has  been  much  in  your  conduct — assuming  that  the  attack 
now  made  upon  you  has  some  ground  to  go  upon — that  I  should 
disapprove  of ;  but  that  which  is  a  shadow  or  a  dream  to  others 
is  a  reality  to  me,  and  vice  versa.  There  is  that  in  your  Karma, 
I  know,  which  entitles  you  and  enables  you  to  do  great  good  in 
the  world,  by  helping  to  disseminate  knowledge,  for  which  your 
own  mind  has  been  attuned.  It  has  been  my  duty  to  arm  you 
with  the  means  of  doing  this.  Personally,  I  deplore  the  bad 
Karma  which,  in  your  case,  is  mingled  with  the  good  ;  but  that 
does  not  dispose  me  to  throw  aside  my  own  task  when  it  is  but 
half  done.  Individually,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  would  ask 
you  to  stay." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  but  it  doea  not  affect  my 


THE    PBOFESSOE   IN   TEOCJBLB.  227 

view  of  the  matter.  Individually  you  may  feel  that,  out,  as 
regards  others,  I  understand  you  to  mean  different  feelings  will 
prevail  t " 

That  this  might  be  the  case  the  Baron  could  not  deny.  He 
asked  for  no  confidence,  but  the  Professor  volunteered  some  in 
the  course  of  their  conversation — partly,  as  he  explained,  because 
he  wanted  the  Baron's  counsel  on  a  matter  connected  indirectly 
with  his  own  affairs.  That  the  proceedings  set  on  foot  against 
him  would  turn  partly  upon  certain  adventures  of  his  which,  of 
course,  he  would  not  attempt  to  justify,  was  evident  already, 
and  the  lady  concerned  with  those  adventures  was  the  lady 
to  whom  Annerly  had  now  engaged  himself  to  be  married. 
What  was  the  Professor  to  do  under  these  trying  circum- 
stances ? 

"  Whether,"  he  said,  "  it  will  excuse  my  conduct  in  your 
eyes  to  know  that  my  own  marriage  has  long  proved  a  mere 
loveless  mockery  of  a  marriage,  I  do  not  know.  That,  of  course, 
is  my  justification  before  my  own  conscience.  I  have  legal  lia- 
bilities, but  no  moral  responsibilities  in  my  own  sight,  towards 
Lady  Emily." 

"  But  how  about  the  other  lady  t " 

The  Professor  showed  more  emotion  than  he  had  yet  betrayed; 
but  after  a  brief  pause  he  stated  the  case  with  his  usual  incisive 
vigour. 

"I  fell  into  temptation,  and  I  succumbed.  I  truly  loved 
Miriam  Seaford.  I  would  never  have  deserted  her.  I  would 
have  looked  upon  her  as  my  real  wife  to  the  end.  But  I  de- 
ceived her  in  one  way— she  did  not  know  I  was  actually  married. 
She  was  a  strange  creature — a  mixture  of  passion  and  ambition. 
For  conventional  morals  she  cared  nothing — for  a  place  in 
society  she  cared  a  great  deal ;  and  when  she  realized  that  this 
was  impossible  of  attainment  through  me,  she  left  me." 

**  I  am  the  worst  adviser  you  could  choose  in  such  a  matter. 
My  life  has  been  passed  beyond  the  reach  of  the  frenzied 
passions  you  refer  to.  It  appears  to  me  that  Annerly  should 
not  be  suffered  to  take  any  irrevocable  step  in  ignorance  of  im- 
portant facts  bearing  on  it.  But  you  must  act  in  this  matter 
on  your  own  discretion,  if  you  act  at  all." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  Professor,  turning  the  subject  shortly 
afterwards,  "  I  need  hardly  say  that  my  visit  here  has  been  a 
revelation.     It  has  opened  my  eyes  to  new  worlds.     It  will  be 

Q  2 


228  KARMA. 

no  fault  of  mine,  but  my  misfortune  alone,  if  circumstances  now 
thrust  me  outside  the  area  of  your  work." 

"  I  hope  nothing  of  that  kind  need  take  place.  In  trying  to 
bring  you  within  that  area  I  have  not  acted  without  the 
approval  of  those  in  whose  wisdom  I  trust  implicitly.  Every 
attempt  of  this  kind  is  liable  to  failure,  but  I  should  imagine 
that  the  higher  part  of  your  nature  may  assert  itself  after  these 
trials  are  past,  and  triumph  over  the  lower." 

Some  further  talk  ensued,  and  then  before  they  separated  the 
Baron  asked  that  he  might  be  relieved  if  possible  of  the  duty 
of  making  explanations  to  their  friends  after  the  Professor  had 
gone. 

"  Would  you  be  reluctant  to  put  your  case,  as  f ar  aa  our 
friends  here  are  concerned,  in  Captain  Miller's  hands  1 " 

"  Captain  Miller !  Well,  I'd  rather  have  spoken  to  Blane. 
Captain  Miller  and  I  have  been  least  intimate  perhaps  of  any 
couple  of  people  here." 

"  Captain  Miller's  nature  seems  to  me  true  gold.  You  may 
not  find  him  a  specially  lenient  critic  of  any  conduct  you  admit 
to  be  faulty ;  but  Blane  should,  I  think,  be  left  to  act  in  this 
matter  in  accordance  with  very  deliberate  thought.  It  is  very 
important  how  he  acts,  and  I  hope  he  will  resolve,  for  the  sake 
of  higher  interests,  to  stand  side  by  side  with  you  as  a  witness 
to  the  truth — no  matter  how  you  are,  for  the  moment,  discredited 
before  the  world." 

**  Good  Heavens  ! "  said  the  Professor,  "  then  /was  the  person 
Blane  was  warned  not  to  shrink  from,  by  the  voice  last  night  ? " 

Though  he  had  been  frank  in  acknowledging  that  blame 
might  attach  to  him  in  connection  with  the  disclosures  that 
were  threatened,  the  Professor  experienced  a  shock  at  the  notion 
that  he  would  be  smirched  in  this  way  to  an  extent  that  might 
render  other  men  averse  from  being  publicly  associated  with 
him.  He  and  Blane  had  been  laying  many  plans  for  joint  action 
in  literature  and  society  for  the  purpose  of  spreading  a  com- 
prehension of  the  new  truths, — new  as  regarded  their  fellow- 
countrymen,  their  age  and  generation, — that  had  possessed  their 
own  minds.  The  Professor's  notion  in  preparing  to  leave  the 
castle  at  once  had  arisen  rather  from  the  thought  that  the  ladies 
might  consider  themselves  injured  by  his  continued  presence 
under  the  circumstance-s,  than  from  apprehension  that  the  morals 
of  the  men  might  be  shocked. 


THE   PBOf'BSSOfi  lH   TEOUBLB.  229 

•*I  should  hope  that  Blane  would  hardly  he  disposed  to 
throw  my  friendship  over  about  this  affair  t "  he  said. 

"  You  can't  hope  that  more  than  I ;  but  Blane  must  act 
deliberately,  and  not  be  caught  in  any  hurried  declaration  of 
sympathy,  before  he  understands  what  he  is  about.  Believe  me 
that  will  he  best." 

"  I  am  not  used.  Baron,"  said  the  Professor,  "  to  being  guided 
by  any  other  man's  judgment,  but  yours  is — " 

**  Worth  very  little  in  such  a  matter,  and  I  do  not  ask  you 
to  go  by  it.  It  is  rather  a  request  that  I  make  than  an  advice 
that  I  venture  to  tender." 

*•  Either  way  will  do  for  me." 

When  the  Professor  returned  to  the  dining-hall,  where  they 
had  breakfasted,  he  electrified  Mrs.  Miller  with  amazement,  by 
announcing  his  immediate  departure. 

"  Urgent  private  affairs,  dear  lady ;  you  can't  realize— -or 
rather  after  all  that  has  passed  you  can't  fail  to  realize— how 
greatly  I  regret  having  to  leave  you  just  now.  I  saw  that  I 
must  go  when  I  read  my  letters  this  morning ;  but  I  thought 
I  owed  it  to  the  Baron  to  explain  some  of  my  reasons.  These 
have  to  do  with  business,  and  I  won't  trouble  you  ladies  with 
them." 

"  Nothing  of  a  disagreeable  nature,  I  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby, 
who  was  still  present,  some  of  the  others  having  already 
dispersed. 

The  Professor  turned  upon  her  a  sharp,  inquiring  look 

"I  am  almost  tempted  to  ask  you  whether  it  is  likely  to  end 
disagreeably  1 " 

Mrs.  Lakesby  laughed.  "  I  was  not  thinking  of  clairvoyant 
impressions,  and  I  don't  want  to  be  a  fortune- teller." 

"  But  would  you  answer  me  a  simple  question,  even  though 
it  seemed  an  odd  one  ? " 

"  That  depends  on  the  question." 

The  Professor  turned  to  Mrs.  Miller.  "Will  you  let  me 
consult  the  oracle  in  your  little  room — I  will  not  keep  her  five 
minutes  1 " 

Mrs.  Miller,  curious,  but  not  surprised,  of  course  acquiesced. 
When  the  Professor  and  Mrs.  Lakesby  were  together  he  took  a 
small  locket  from  his  pocket. 

*•  You  will  remember  asking  me  if  I  had  a  lock  of  hair  of 
that  lady  we  spoke  of.     I  have  since  then  written  home  for  a 


230  KABMA. 

certain  locket  which  I  knew  to  contain  it,  and  here  it  is.  Now 
I  want  no  longer  to  know  where  the  lady  is,  but  it  would  throw 
light  upon  some  duties  which  lie  before  me  if  I  knew  the  state 
of  that  lady's  feelings  in  regard  to  myself.  Can  you  give  me  a 
clue  to  them  ? " 

As  he  spoke,  he  unfastened  a  small  locket,  and  offered  the 
piece  of  hair  it  contained  to  Mrs.  Lakesby.  She  took  it  doubt- 
fully and  reluctantly. 

"It  is  aa  odd  question  for  a  married  man  like  you  to  be 
asking,"  she  said. 

"  No  doubt.  If  it  is  necessary  you  shall  have  full  explana- 
tions as  to  why  I  ask  it — you  will  know  shortly  in  any  case ; 
but  it  would  be  more  interesting  to  me  if  you  would  answer  my 
question  without  inquiring  further  for  the  moment." 

"  I  have  an  impression,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby  thoughtfully,  as 
she  fingered  the  hair,  *'  that  I  am  treading  oi.  very  delicate 
giound.  And  nothing  can  be  more  uncertain  than  such  ideas 
as  this."  She  spoke,  pausing  between  the  sentemes,  but  the 
Professor  waited  patiently,  and  she  sat  down,  still  holding  the 
hair  and  knitting  her  brows.  "  You  had  better  not  act  on  any- 
thing I  say.  Oh  !  I  see  a  small  room,  like  a  little  drawing- 
room,  and  the  same  woman  sitting  at  a  little  desk  in  front  of 
the  window.  She's  looking  over  letters  ;  she's  in  some  sort  of 
trouble  and  perplexity.  Ah!  Here,  take  back  the  hair.  I 
don't  feel  as  if  this  sort  of  thing  was  right." 

"  But  cannot  you  give  me  the  clue  I  want  ?  I  am  not  seeking 
it  for  any  bad  motive,  I  assure  you.  A  glimpse  of  the  truth 
clear  of  all  superficial  deceptions  would  be  invaluable  to  me, 
and  might  enable  me  to  redress  past  mistakes." 

"  And  suppose  I  make  new  mistakes  1  This  sort  of  vision  is 
the  most  uncertain  thing." 

"  It  is  too  late  to  ask  me  to  distrust  your  vision;  If  you 
won't  tell  me,  you  won't ;  but  for  want  of  knowing  the  truth  I 
may  be  enveloped,  and  others  too,  in  sad  misunderstanding." 

"  You  will  check  what  I  tell  you  in  other  ways  1  You  won't 
trust  to  it  blindly  ? " 

"  Certainly  not.  It  is  a  clue — a  guiding  thread  in  a  labyrinth 
— that  I  require." 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  are  mixed  up  with  that  woman's 
aflfairs,  but  I  should  say — I  should  think  that  she  loves  you." 

"  Thanks,  most  sincerely.  I  shall  know  better  what  to  do 
now,  and  may  perhaps  be  able  to  avert  much  unhappiness." 


THE   PEOFBSSOB   IN   TROUBLE.  231 

**  I  hope  I  have  not  contributed  to  produce  any  t  ** 

"  That  is  impossible.  Darkness  and  misunderstandings 
produce  unhappiness,  not  light  and  truth- telling." 

There  was  no  thought  of  further  occult  work  that  evening 
at  the  castle.  When  Captain  Jem,  very  grave  and  disturbed, 
came  back  from  seeing  off  the  Professor  at  the  station,  he  re- 
ported the  whole  situation  to  Mrs.  Miller,  and  she  told  the 
other  ladies  in  separate  confabulations.  The  Captain  told 
Merland  and  Blane,  and  everybody  knew  all  about  the  situation 
of  affairs  by  dinner-time.  At  first  discussed  in  shy  allusions, 
by  degrees  the  moral  problems  involved  came  to  be  more 
openly  debated.  The  presence  of  the  German  servants  was  no 
embarrassment. 

*f  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  at  length  giving  an  opinion  that 
was  the  first  put  forward  explicitly,  **I  daresay  he*s  been 
behaving  very  badly  to  the  other  woman ;  but  Lady  Emily's  a 
cold-hearted  cat,  and  I  suspect  she  drove  him  to  it." 

"  I  should  never  attempt,"  Blane  said,  "  to  form  an  opinion 
about  the  morality  of  any  other  man's  actions ;  and,  as  for 
married  people,  every  married  couple  is  an  insoluble  enigma  for 
all  outsiders.  But  I  am  deeply  sorry  this  thing  has  occurred, 
for  the  sake  of  the  work  we  were  to  have  done  together." 

**  He  is  very  anxious  about  that,"  said  the  Captain ;  "  he's 
hard  hit  in  his  pride,  is  our  Professor,  to  think  that  his  name 
may  be  a  burden  to  carry,  instead  of  a  tower  of  strength,  for  any 
man  he  works  with." 

"  We  have  got,"  Blane  answered,  '*  far  enough  into  occultism 
in  the  course  of  this  visit  to  feel  that,  in  anything  said  to  the 
world  on  the  subject,  a  very  elevated  moral  tone  must  be  pre- 
served. If  the  exponents  of  such  teaching  as  we  have  to  offer 
are  open  to  reproach  of  a  very  commonplace  kind,  the  world 
will  have  an  easy  retort  to  fling  at  us." 

**  The  difficulty,"  said  the  Baron,  "  is  always  to  unite  perfect 
reprobation  of  sin  with  perfect  charity  towards  the  sinner." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  "  it  is  a  pity,  a  horrible  pity, 
that  we  should  be  hampered  in  anything  we  have  to  put  for- 
ward about  occultism  with  an  objectionable  scandal  of  this  sort." 

"  I  am  very  far,"  replied  the  Baron,  "from  saying  that  it  is 
a  good  thing  we  should  be  so  hampered.  But  I  can  just  imagine 
that  some  tasks  should  not  be  made  too  easy  in  the  beginning. 
Some  men  and  some  ideas  must  be  tried  in  the  fire  before  they 
are  ready  for  what  they  have  to  do." 
16 


232  EABMA. 

"  Isn't  it  rather  soon  for  our  new  movement  to  be  put  through 
ordeals  before  it  is  fairly  started  even  1 " 

"It  may  be  the  people  associated  with  it,  who  are  to  go 
through  the  ordeals  before  even  the  movement  begins.  But, 
after  all,  that  is  a  recondite  hypothesis.  The  practical  way  to 
consider  the  thing  seems  to  me  this,  that  we  should  always  look 
at  the  good  points  of  the  people  we  find  ourselves  thrown  with 
as  co-workers,  if  they  certainly  have  good  points,  and  put  up 
with,  or  not  think  about,  their  failings." 

"  Baron ! "  said  Blane,  "  the  thing  I  am  feeling  chiefly,  if 
you  will  allow  me  to  say  so,  is  that  an  outrage  is  offered,  as  it 
were,  to  your  name,  which  is  so  profoundly  respected  by  all  who 
know  you,  that  it  should  not  be  associated,  at  this  crisis,  with 
any  other,  tarnished  by  the  bxeath  of  scandal." 

**  My  dear  friend,  my  poor  name  is  of  no  consequence  at  all. 
I  would  gladly,  if  that  were  possible,  come  back  amongst  you 
in  London  next  year  to  let  it  be  of  what  service  it  might  be  to 
you  in  any  work  you  try  to  undertake,  for  the  sake  of  truth  and 
humanity,  but  that  unfortunately  must  not  be." 

This  was  not  the  first  time  that  the  Baron  had  indicated  the 
probability  of  his  early  retirement  to  some  unknown  region ;  so 
that  what  he  now  said  was  no  surprise  to  his  hearers.  He  went 
on, — 

"  Where  I  am  going,  it  matters  inconceivably  little  whether 
men,  in  your  world,  hold  my  name  lightly  or  in  respect.  Yours 
is  of  far  greater  practical  consequence,  and  you  must  protect  that 
by  any  means  that  seem  fit  to  you." 

They  had  all  been  examining  the  records  of  the  previous 
evening's  address  too  diligently  to  be  oblivious  of  the  direct 
bearing  this  had  on  the  question  in  hand. 

"  As  far  as  I  can  make  it  out,"  said  Mrs.  Miller  stoutly, 
"  we  were  all  told  plainly  enough  last  night  that  we  ought  to 
stand  by  the  Professor." 

"  The  point  at  issue  does  not  seem  to  me,"  said  Blane,  "  to 
be  personal  in  its  nature.  I  should  certainly  be  willing  to  stand 
by  the  Professor  if  he  were  wronged  in  any  way.  If  public 
opinion  comes,  for  instance,  to  treat  the  Professor  unjustly,  and 
we,  knowing  more  about  the  true  facts,  see  that,  why,  good 
Heavens  !  we  should  stand  by  him  in  face  of  any  calumnious 
attack.  But  we  don't  yet  know  anything  of  the  rights  of  the 
Biovj  to  come  out     It  may  prove  that  the  Professor  is  to  blame. 


THE  PROPESSOE  IN  TROUBLE.         23S 

In  that  case  we  can't  pretend  to  think  he  is  not  to  blame.  We 
should  not  help  him  by  doing  that,  and  we  should  merely 
forfeit  whatever  little  influence  or  opportunity  of  usefulness  we 
may  have  ourselves." 

"  I  can't  help,"  said  Captain  Miller,  "  going  back  to  what 
we  heard  last  night.  This  affair  was  evidently  foreseen,  and 
yet  the  warning  was  plain  against  being  too  much  afraid  of 
standing  beside  a  man  because  people  generally  might  be  down 
upon  him." 

The  conversation  led  to  no  very  definite  conclusions.  Blane 
emphasized  his  repudiation  of  the  idea  that  he  could  be  sup- 
posed to  shi'ink  from  incurring  odium  as  such.  The  question 
was  merely  one  of  being  sure  of  standing  on  the  side  of  the 
right — and,  as  regards  the  work  they  proposed  doing,  of  not 
running  the  risk  of  ruining  a  great  undertaking  by  taking  it 
on  hand  in  an  indiscreet  way. 

*'  Granted  the  Professor  has  great  gifts  that  might  be  of  the 
utmost  service,  has  he  other  qualities  which  may  render  those 
gifts  worse  than  useless  1  It  is  a  question  of  fact ;  not  of  will- 
ingness on  our  part  to  incur  more  or  less  criticism  or  censure. 
Who  cares  for  that  1    I'm  sure  I  don't." 

The  Baron  remained  with  their  shrunken  little  party  during 
the  evening,  but  a  certain  depression  of  spirits  had  come  over 
them.  The  loss  of  the  Professor  robbed  them  of  the  mainspring 
of  their  vitality.  The  energy  and  general  overbearingness  of 
his  character  had  absorbed  and  obliterated  the  energies  of  the 
others  while  he  had  been  with  them.  They  seemed  now  left 
without  compass  or  rudder. 

"Jem,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  when  the  hostess  of  Heiligenfels 
and  her  mate  were  alone  together  at  the  end  of  the  evening, 
"  for  the  first  time  in  his  Ufe  Willie  Blane  is  annoying  me. 
He's  too  finikin." 

'*  Take  my  advice,  and  trust  to  the  Baron  to  manage  Willie. 
That'll  all  come  straight  in  time." 

"  In  time  !  and  what  are  we  to  do  meanwhile  1  It  seems  to 
me  the  whole  thing  is  over,  and  we've  all  collapsed.  We'd 
better  propose  to  clear  out  next." 

"  H*m  !  "  murmured  the  Captain,  as  though  reflecting  to  him- 
self. "Weak-brained  sort  of  chap,  the  Baron— to  get  a  lot  of 
people  together  into  this  business,  that  all  crumple  up  as  soon  as 
trouble  sets  in." 


234  KABMA. 

"  Who  are  you  calling  names  ?     It  isn't  the  Baron's  fault." 

"If  his  crew  all  desert  the  ship  before  he  pays  her  off,  it 
won*t  seem  as  though  he'd  made  a  very  good  choice  when  he 
first  took  them  on  board,  will  it ?" 

"Jem,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  gazing  at  him  calmly  for  a  few 
seconds,  and  perceiving  the  satire  conveyed  in  his  remark,  '*  if 
you  can't  find  anything  to  say  except  to  turn  your  superior 
officer  into  ridicule,  you'd  better  smoke." 

'*Ohl  then  I  hadn't  better  go  and  tell  the  Baron  we  are 
thinking  of  clearing  out  1 " 

"If you  propose  anything  of  that  sort  again,  Jem,"  said  Mrs. 
Miller,  "I'U  divorce  you  !  " 


CHAWER  XXVL 

Miriam's  lovers^ 

The  Professor  had  been  right  in  assuming  that  news  of  the 
divorce  proceeding  instituted  by  his  wife  would  filter  into  the 
papers  in  anticipation  of  the  slow  progress  of  legal  ceremonies. 
Paragraphs  began  to  make  their  appearance  at  once,  and  these 
were  coupled  with  curious  hints  concerning  odd  circimstances 
under  which  the  facts  in  preparation  for  submission  to  the 
proper  tribunal  had  come  to  light.  The  Professor,  it  was 
announced,  had  been  engaged  lately  in  some  insane  attempt  to 
revive  the  ancient  practices  of  witchcraft ;  and  his  wife,  long  a 
sufferer  from  his  cruelty  and  suspicious  of  his  fidelity,  had  been 
driven  by  indignation  at  the  blasphemous  nature  of  this  extra- 
ordinary enterprise  to  fly  from  the  miserable  hut  in  the  Hartz 
Mountains,  to  which  her  husband  had  decoyed  her,  in  order 
that  she  might  be  made  the  instrument  of  some  of  his  incanta- 
tions, and  take  refuge  with  friends.  There  she  had  been  put 
on  the  scent  of  the  information  which  was  shortly  to  be  laid 
before  the  courts.  This  statement  was  no  sooner  issued  than 
it  was  declared  by  other  paragraphs  to  be  erroneous  in  some  of 
its  details.  The  Professor  had  not  been  concerned  with  any 
grovelling  experiments  with  Macbeth  cauldrons.  If  possible  the 
situation  seemed  to  be  rather  worse  than  this,  for  his  wife  when 


mieiam's  lovers.  235 

she  joined  him  abroad — having  quitted  the  protection  of  one  of  her 
noble  relatives  for  this  purpose — had  found  him  established  in 
a  palace  on  the  shores  of  a  Swiss  lake,  the  property  of  a  wealthy 
Austrian  Count.  Over  the  mind  of  this  half-witted  being  he 
had  obtained  extraordinary  ascendency,  and  by  his  resources  he 
had  been  enabled  to  organize  a  vast  phantasmagorial  display  of 
apparently  supernatural  effects,  the  p^irpose  of  which  was  to 
blind  the  understanding  of  a  number  of  persons  he  had  gathered 
together,  and  lead  them  into  the  formation  of  a  league  for  the 
cultivation  of  the  black  art  on  entirely  new  principles.  In  one 
form  or  another,  the  story,  told  of  course  in  a  guarded  way, 
attracted  a  good  deal  of  attention,  as  it  provided  an  easy  sub- 
ject for  lively  journalists.  "  The  new  Chair  of  Witchcraft,'* 
"  Biology  and  Broomsticks," — in  allusion  to  one  of  the  ordi- 
nary branches  of  science  with  which  Professor  Massilton's  name 
was  associated, — "Divorce  and  Demonology,"  were  a  few  of 
the  titles  which  began  to  decorate  the  newspaper  advertise- 
ment bills  soon  after  the  Professor's  return  to  London.  This 
certainly  was  not  the  way  in  which  he  had  intended  to  launch 
the  new  ideas  he  had  picked  up  at  Heiligenfels  on  the  attention 
of  the  reading  public.  He  bought  the  newspapers  which 
amused  themselves  with  his  affairs,  and  read  them  quietly  at 
his  chambers,  hurt  very  little  by  the  light  sarcasms  on  his  own 
intelligence  with  which  they  abounded,  from  the  stings  of  which 
he  was  protected  by  the  consciousness  of  superior  knowledge, 
but  stiU  fretting  a  good  deal  at  the  thought  that  he  woi3d 
naturally  be  held  responsible  in  the  eyes  of  the  friends  with 
whom  he  had  intended  to  co-operate,  for  all  this  premature  splash- 
ing of  inconsiderate  foUy  he  had  so  unintentionally  provoked. 

For  the  moment,  however,  he  was  far  too  wise  in  his  genera- 
tion to  make  any  sign  in  reply  to  the  jeering  with  which  he 
was  assailed.  He  did  not  regard  the  problems  with  which  he 
had  lately  been  concerned,  as  likely  to  be  treated  successfully 
by  letters  to  the  papers,  so  he  left  the  jokers  to  wear  the  subject 
out  at  their  own  sweet  will,  and  meanwhile  addressed  himself 
to  a  whoUy  different  matter. 

He  was  determined  to  see  Miriam  Seaford.  Nearly  a  year 
had  elapsed  since  he  and  she  had  parted.  As  he  had  told  the 
Baron,  that  parting  had  been  brought  about  by  no  wish  of  his. 
Certainly  it  had  not  left  him  oppressed  with  an  overwhelming 
grief,  but  it  had  cat  him  deeply  at  the  time.     Miriam  had 


236  EABMA. 

thoroughly  eDga<^ed  his  ardent  afiFections.  He  had  thrown  him- 
self into  the  romance  of  his  attachment  to  her,  with  all  the 
usual  energy  of  his  nature.  Subject  as  their  relations  had  been 
to  rupture  at  any  moment,  their  prolongation  over  a  period  of 
many  months  had  never  been  tinged  with  a  suspicion  of  satiety. 
He  had  been  as  much  in  love  with  her — a  good  deal  more  in 
love  with  her  in  fact — at  the  end  of  their  liason  than  at  the 
beginning.  And  he  had  pondered  a  good  deal  over  the  psycho- 
logical problem  she  presented  to  his  mind.  That  she  had  been 
in  love  with  him  he  did  not  question  for  a  moment.  And  the 
course  of  events  had  shown  that  considerations  which  would 
have  restrained  most  women,  had  very  little  weight  with  her. 
There  had  never  been  any  private  marriage  between  them,  as 
she  had  told  her  aunt,  to  soothe  the  distress  her  conduct  occa- 
sioned. But  still  she  had  believed  that  a  marriage  would  ulti- 
mately put  their  relations  on  a  regular  footing.  The  Professor 
had  "  paltered  "  with  the  truth,  as  he  acknowledged  to  himself, 
but  he  had  not  been  guilty,  he  argued  in  his  own  mind,  of 
seduction,  for  two  reasons.  First,  the  essence  of  that  offence 
he  conceived  to  lie  in  subsequent  desertion,  and  he  never  con- 
templated deserting  Miriam  for  a  moment.  Secondly,  he  had 
not  been  manipulating  false  promises  to  overcome  scruples  on 
her  own  part.  Miriam  had  had  no  scruples.  She  was  a  girl 
of  altogether  independent  character,  for  whom  conventional 
rules,  as  such,  had  no  force  whatever.  Their  compact  had  been 
set  in  the  clear  light  of  a  mutual  understanding  from  the  first. 
He  had  framed  ingenious  theories,  having  to  do  with  college 
fellowship  rules  and  the  terms  under  which  he  held  certain 
appointments,  as  accounting  for  the  fact  which  he  most  frankly 
declared  all  through — that  he  could  not  marry.  Miriam  had 
seemed  to  accept  this  condition  of  things.  He  had  quite  volun- 
tarily made  legal  dispositions  of  property  in  her  favour  to  insure 
her  from  the  contingency  of  widowhood.  But  she  had  never 
availed  herself  of  these  after  she  left  him,  had  returned  to  him 
the  documents  connected  with  them  which  had  been  put  in  her 
hands,  and  had  obliterated  them  as  far  as  her  act  could  accom- 
plish this.  She  must  have  relied  on  a  legal  marriage  as  the 
end  of  their  relationship,  the  Professor  persuaded  himself ;  and 
when  at  last  she  came  to  learn  the  real  state  of  the  facts, — for 
deceptions  of  this  kind  can  rarely  be  kept  up  for  very  long, — 
she  must  in  some  subtle  way  have  found  the  position  outraging 


Miriam's  lovers.  237 

to  her  self-respect  on  principles  it  was  not  easy  to  follow,  seeing 
that  her  self-respect  had  endured  the  establishment  of  their 
peculiar  relations. 

Now  the  situation  had  changed.  All  the  Professor's  passion 
for  her  was  kindled  afresh  at  the  idea  that  she  was  now  about 
to  pass  into  the  lawful  companionship  of  another  man.  And  a 
view  of  duty  in  the  matter  was  readily  constructed  in  his  mind 
in  a  way  which  harmonized  with  inclination.  It  would  be 
wrong  to  let  Annerly  marry  a  woman  with  a  past  history  of 
which  he  might  be  quite  ignorant.  He  should  know  the  truth 
— assuming  that  he  had  been  kept  in  ignorance  of  this — though 
the  Professor,  knowing  the  fearless  and  uncompromising  cha- 
racter of  the  lady  concerned,  did  not  believe  it  likely  that  she 
had  withheld  the  truth.  However,  whichever  way  this  might 
be,  Annerly  should  be  protected  from  marriage  with  a  woman 
who  did  not  love  him,  provided  this  engagement  had  merely 
been  accepted  by  Miriam  as  a  pis-aller.  Nothing  could  be 
worse  for  him  than  that  result,  argued  the  Professor,  his  keen 
reasoning  faculties  failing  this  time  to  give  him  a  picture  of 
Annerly's  state  of  mind,  according  to  which  alienation  of  his 
love  was  the  only  supreme  misery,  and  association  with  her,  on 
any  terms,  happiness — in  varying  degrees,  perhaps,  according  to 
her  feeling  about  him,  but  still,  on  any  terms,  happiness. 

The  Professor  had  never  argued  the  matter  with  Miriam, 
either  at  the  time  she  left  him  or  by  letter  since.  No  line  had 
ever  passed  between  them.  He  was  not  a  man  to  plead  or 
entreat  in  such  a  case.  Her  position  had  been  simple,  *'  You 
have  deceived  me.  I  will  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  you." 
His  answer  had  been,  "  I  kept  back  a  fact  from  you,  but  I  did 
not  deceive  you  in  essence.  I  always  said  it  was  impossible  I 
could  marry  you,  and  I  can't.  I  wish  I  could."  "  You  deceived 
me,"  was  the  only  reply.  They  had  a  chilly  rather  than  a 
stormy  scene  at  a  hotel  in  Geneva.  He  argued,  "  I  loved  you :" 
she  decided  that  "  that  was  no  excuse."  She  had  travelled  to 
London  by  herself,  refusing  his  proffered  escort  peremptorily, 
and  they  had  never  met  since.  But  now  the  situation  was,  or 
was  about  to  be,  materially  changed.  He  certainly  could  not 
have  courted  the  disgrace  of  the  divorce  proceedings ;  he  could 
not  have  stooped  to  provide  them  adequate  justification  ;  and 
he  was  puzzled  now  to  understand  how  Lady  Emily  would 
eonstnict  a  charge  of  cruelty  against  him  to  fortify  her  other 

16 


238  KABMA. 

plea,  and  bear  out  the  petition  she  was  addressing  to  the  court ; 
though  resolved,  under  the  circumstances,  to  play  into  her 
hands  in  this  matter ;  but  now  the  disgrace  of  the  divorce 
would  have  to  be  borne  in  any  case.  It  would  be  minimized  if 
it  should  be  immediately  succeeded  by  his  marriage  with  the 
lady  whose  name,  by  his  fault,  would  thus  be  dragged  into  a 
humiliating  publicity ;  and  he  would  be  able  to  offer  Miriam 
the  fullest  possible  redress  of  the  past  deception  of  which  she 
complained. 

His  plan  of  action  was  promptly  arranged.  To  go  to  Miriam 
without  explaining  his  proposal  beforehand  would  be  to  court  a 
rebuff.  To  write  to  her  and  await  an  answer  would  be  to  leave 
her  open  to  other  influences  than  his  own.  He  would  arrange 
that  a  letter  explaining  his  position  should  be  handed  to  her  at 
a  convenient  opportunity  when  she  was  alone,  and  he  would 
follow  it  up  by  appearing  in  her  presence  ten  minutes  later.  The 
assistance  of  a  private  inquiry-agent  would  enable  him  to  ascer- 
tain the  few  external  circumstances  he  required  to  know.  Qui 
veut  la  fin  must  submit  to  les  moyens,  he  declared  to  himself,  to 
conquer  a  certain  sense  of  repugnance  with  which  he  engaged 
the  services  he  required.  He  wrote,  meanwhile,  with  his  ac- 
customed straightforward  simplicity,  the  note  to  be  despatched 
at  the  fitting  moment. 

"  My  dear  Miriam, — For  dear  you  must  always  be  to  me — 
when  we  last  parted  I  told  you  I  wished  I  could  marry  you. 
You  would  then  have  been  willing  to  marry  me ;  but  I  was 
unable.  As  circumstances  are  now  falling  out,  I  shall  be  able 
to  marry  you  as  soon  as  certain  divorce  proceedings,  of  which 
you  may  have  heard,  are  concluded.  I  never  change  a  clearly- 
defined  desire,  and  the  wish  to  marry  you  is  as  strong  with  me 
as  ever.  Should  I  persuade  you  to  agree  to  it,  I  shall  be  eager 
to  complete  our  union — so  sadJy  interrupted — within  the  shortest 
period  possible  after  the  divorce  is  pronounced. 

"  I  have  heard  that  you  are  engaged  to  marry  another  man. 
If  you  love  him  and  no  longer  love  me,  do  so  by  all  means. 
Your  great  good  sense  will  assuredly,  in  that  case,  lead  you  to 
clear  all  possibility  of  future  misunderstandings  out  of  your 
path  by  frankness  with  him  at  the  outset ;  and  I  would  earnestly 
express  a  hope  that  all  good  things  might  be  your  portion,  health 
and  prosperity,  and  a  love  that  should  appreciate  you  through 
life. 


mibiam's  lovers.  239 

•*  If  you  don't  love  him,  and  do  still  love  me,  for  all  our  eakes 
— and  foremost  for  your  own  dear  sake — give  up  all  thought  of 
marrying  him.  It  would  be  a  terrible  madness,  productive  in- 
evitably of  awful  misery,  foremost  of  all  for  him.  Does  it  seem 
odd  that  I  do  not  say  foremost  of  all  for  me  ?  My  dear  child, 
as  you  know,  1  am  truthful  and  candid  by  nature,  though  once 
(as  you  will  have  it)  I  told  you,  or  let  you  think  I  told  you,  a 
big  solitary  falsehood.  In  that  matter  I  acted  under  a  corre- 
spondingly big  temptation,  for  I  was  bent  on  winning  you. 
Well ;  I  say  now,  that,  if  you  marry  a  man  without  loving  him, 
you  will  make  him  suffer  in  the  long  run  so  much  that  nobody 
can  take  precedence  of  him  as  a  victim  of  that  mistake. 

"  You  will  see,  I  think,  that  I  am  a  reasonable  person  still, 
as  you  have  always  known  me.  You  had  better  see  me  and 
talk  this  matter  over — then  there  can  be  no  misunderstandings 
between  us  at  any  rate.  I  shall  present  myself  at  your  door 
very  shortly  after  you  get  this  letter,  and  I  hope  you  will  let 
me  in. 

"  Ever  yours  faithfully, 

**  Arthttr  Massilton." 

For  Annerly,  while  all  this  was  going  on,  the  shadow  of  the 
impending  divorce  proceedings,  in  which  he  knew  that  Miriam's 
name  must  be  so  painfully  mixed  up,  had  lain  but  as  a  small 
cloud  upon  a  distant  horizon  during  a  sunny  day.  He  was 
never  tired  of  teUing  Miriam  how  her  presence  near  him  again 
— the  privilege  of  gazing  in  her  face  and  sitting  with  his  arms 
about  her — was  such  bliss  to  him  that  any  other  thought  except 
the  all-pervading  consciousness  of  that  ecstasy,  seemed  sus- 
pended for  the  time.  For  a  day  or  two  after  her  restoration 
to  him  at  Purfleet  she  had  stayed  on  at  her  farmhouse  and  he 
had  found  quarters  at  an  inn  in  the  neighbourhood.  He  would 
not  have  lost  much  of  her  society  if  he  had  gone  back  to  town  by 
the  last  train  and  had  returned  by  the  first  in  the  morning,  but 
still  he  would  have  been  sensible  of  losing  some.  He  would  have 
been  watching  the  time  in  the  evening,  when  he  would  rather 
have  been  drinking  in  the  radiance  of  her  beauty  in  total  for- 
getfulness  of  all  other  facts  in  the  world.  And  she  was  very 
gentle  and  submissive  to  his  worship.  That  was  her  only  demon- 
stration.    She  surrendered  herself  to  his  tornado  of  tenderness. 

"  You  have  suffered  for  the  want  of  me.  I  have  been  more 
ovael  to  you  than  I  knew.     Take  your  compensation.'^ 


240  KARMA. 

She  never  withdrew  herself  from  his  emhraces — except  in- 
deed once  during  the  Purfleet  time,  when  they  were  sitting  in 
the  little  Enchanted  Wood,  as  they  came  to  call  it — when  the 
fire  of  his  love  had  been  playing  on  her  heart  in  some  way 
she  may  not  have  fully  comprehended,  and  the  dark  rugged 
face  of  her  lover,  surmounted  by  its  great  shock  of  black  hair, 
was  lighted  up  by  the  gleam  of  almost  poetic  genius — the  in- 
spiration of  his  perfect  devotion.  For  three  days  she  had  seen 
no  one  but  him  and  the  old  farmer,  her  nurse's  husband. 

"  Geordie,"  she  said,  "  sit  up — be  still  I  '* 

There  was  a  tone  of  surprise  and  indecision  In  her  voice,  and 
yet  no  displeasure — nothing  to  alarm  even  so  sensitive  a  lover 
as  Annerly,  but  still  something  that  claimed  explanation, 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"  A  curious  sensation  that  was  not  in  the  new  compact  be- 
tween us.  I  merely  undertook  to  let  you  love  me — ^wasn't 
that  so?" 

**  To  let  me  love,  worship,  adore  you — to  accept  my  unutter- 
able devotion,  my  beautiful  queen.    That  is  all  I  claim." 

"  But  it  appears  to  me,  Geordie,  that  I  am  getting  fond  of 
you." 

The  ebb  and  flow  of  love  is  a  mystery  of  nature.  Miriam 
felt  the  magnitude  of  Annerly's  claim  upon  her — arising  out  of 
his  suffering  on  her  account — to  be  less  oppressive  in  view  of 
the  possibility  that,  after  all,  she  might  come  to  be  herself 
desirous  of,  as  well  a«  sacrificially  willing  to  acquiesce  in,  a 
marriage  between  them. 

"  Now  we'll  go  back  to  town,"  she  declared.  "  The  sweetest 
situation  must  come  to  an  end  sooner  or  later.  Even  you  will 
get  weary,  even  of  me,  if  we  stay  here  much  longer,  and  then, 
perhaps,  I  might  feel  regret — which  would  never  do." 

She  had  fallen  into  adopting,  half  in  joke,  Annerly*s  fre- 
quently asserted  theory,  that  the  least  evil  that  could  befall  her 
was  greater  than  the  greatest  evil  that  could  befall  any  one  else. 

"  My  queen,"  he  would  say,  "  it  is  a  privilege  to  suffer  for 
your  sake.  It  is  only  suffering  which  does  you  no  good,  that 
should  be  unbearable  for  others." 

So  they  returned  together  to  Miss  Jameson's  little  menage 
at  the  close  of  the  day.  Annerly  stayed  the  evening  with  them, 
during  the  greater  part  of  which  time  the  good  aunt  effaced 
herself,  and  spent  some  hours  privately  in  her  bedroom,  praying 


MIRIAM'S   LOVIBS.  241 

tearfully,  and  hoping  ardently,  that  now  at  last  her  beloved 
girl  might  find  her  path  smooth  and  pleasant,  and  the  haven 
she  was  approaching,  one  of  rest  and  peace. 

Miriam  evaded  the  settlement  of  a  day  for  the  marriage. 
She  promised  to  issue  commands  on  the  subject  at  no  distant 
date,  but  said  that  the  emotions  she  had  lately  gone  through, 
had  been  rather  tearing  and  bewildering.  She  would  rather 
be  made  love  to  lazily  and  dreamily  for  a  little  while  longer, 
before  turning  their  romance  into  anything  so  commonplace  as 
matrimony.  Annerly  would  not  have  feared  that  the  romance 
would  sufifer  by  any  measures  which  could  ensure  its  per- 
manence, but  he  was  not  in  a  position  to  dispute  Miriam's  will 
in  the  matter;  and  thus  the  days  passed,  occupied  by  the 
happy  lover  in  cheerful  and  unremitting  industry  during  all 
such  working  hours  as  it  was  inconvenient  or  undesired  by 
Miriam  that  he  should  spend  with  her. 

From  Heiligenf els  he  received  frequent  letters  from  Meriand, 
telling  him  in  general  terms  of  the  work  going  on  there,  and  of 
the  clairvoyant  visions  they  were  having  with  Mrs.  Lakesby, 
though  the  account  of  these  was  left  imperfect  from  motives 
Annerly  naturally  failed  to  interpret  aright  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  was  dropped  out  of  the  innermost  confidence  of 
the  circle  at  the  castle  by  reason  of  having  fallen  back  into 
the  ordinary  aspirations  of  a  life  that  sought  happiness  in  the 
world,  and  he  did  not  rebel  against  the  justice  of  this  treatment. 

He  was  only  grateful  to  Merland,  as  he  explained,  for  any 
information  that  could  be  given  to  him  in  regard  to  what  might 
be  going  on. 

"  From  the  occult  point  of  view,**  he  wrote,  "  I  am  a  miserable 
backslider.  But  you  have  known  enough  of  my  state  of  mind, 
during  the  last  few  years,  to  understand  that  under  the  circum- 
stances this  is  inevitable.  I  hope  you  will  talk  the  matter  over 
with  the  Baron  sufficiently  to  be  sure  that  he  shares  your  com- 
prehension of  this.  Qui  g^excuse  s'accuse.  It  is  impossible  for 
me  to  write  to  him  in  adequate  explanation  of  my  conduct 
without  seeming  to  feel  too  apologetic.  I  could  say  what  I 
believe  to  be  the  truth,  that,  as  things  have  fallen  out,  I  am 
destined  to  be  a  shield  and  protection  for  my  beloved  Miriam 
in  her  great  need,  that  duty  would  suggest  the  abandonment 
by  me — for  the  sake  of  playing  this  part — of  any  personal 
spiritual  advantage  I  might  gain  in  another  path  of  life.    But 


242  KARMA. 

I  do  not  want  to  seem  hypocritically  charging  to  duty  what  my 
own  overmastering  desire  would  command  me  to  do  quite 
irrespective  of  duty.  However  we  analyze  it,  since  fate  allows 
me  to  be  ^Miriam  Seaford's  husband  after  all,  I  wiU  not,  for 
any  consideration,  leave  the  responsibilities  of  that  trust  to  any 
other  man.  Put  my  case  honestly  to  the  Baron,  but  put  it  so 
that  he  may  know  how  I  recognize  to  the  fullest  extent  the 
terrible  magnitude  of  the  loss  I  incur  by  foregoing  what  it 
seemed  at  one  time  might  have  been  within  my  reach — the 
privilege  of  being  his  pupil,  and  of  endeavouring  to  follow  in 
his  footsteps,  as  far  as  this  unworthy  personality  of  mine  might 
have  enabled  me  to  go." 

In  reply  to  this,  Annerly  received  a  letter  from  the  Baron 
himself. 

"  My  Dear  Annbrlt,**  the  Baron  wrote, 

"  I  gather  from  our  friend  Merland  that  yon  would  be  glad, 
even  in  the  midst  of  what  seems  your  new-found  happiness,  to 
have  an  assurance  from  me  that  I  recognize  the  irresistible  force 
of  the  circumstances  which  have  induced  you  to  take  certain 
steps  you  have  lately  taken.  You  would  have  been  more  or 
less  than — the  man  you  are,  to  have  followed  any  other  course. 
I  believe  you  are  willing  to  put  down  to  weakness  and  passion 
your  abandonment  of  the  life  of  occult  study  you  were  so  well 
inclined  for — in  some  respects.  But  duty  need  not  be  ignored 
because  it  sometimes  chimes  in  with  inclination.  If,  as  I 
understand,  you  could  hardly  have  remained  in  the  occult  path 
without  sacrificing  interests  of  another  person,  that  had  <5ome 
to  be  dependent  on  you,  then  I  think  you  are  quite  justified  in 
acting  as  you  did.  Happily  you  were  bound  by  no  vows,  the 
infraction  of  which  would  have  involved  a  feeling  of  humilia- 
tion, and  perhaps  worse  consequences.  I  wrote  above,  what 
seems  your  new-found  happiness,  because,  while  making  all 
possible  allowance  for  your  feelings,  I  do  not  pretend  myself  to 
regard  any  of  the  transitory  delights  which  physical  existence 
may  afford,  as  more  than  shows  and  delusive  appearances  of 
happiness.  They  come  to  an  end  sooner  or  later,  while  nothing 
is  regarded  as  true  happiness,  in  the  occult  sense,  except  that 
which  is  enduring  ;  and  nothing  in  the  nature  of  consciousness 
can  be  enduring  unless  it  is  seated  in  the  higher  principles  of 
man's  nature,  which  are  but  very  little  if  at  all  concerned  with 


mieiam's  lovers,  243 

the  phenomena  of  earthly  life  as  understood  by  our  generation. 
I  do  not  want  to  belittle  or  disparage  the  emotions  which 
invest  it  for  you  with  the  attributes  of  reality.  Don't  regret 
the  time  we  spent  together.  I  do  not,  I  assure  you,  for  I  know 
that,  come  what  may,  the  seeds  sown  during  that  time  have  not 
been  sown  in  vain.  It  is  better  to  go  a  little  way  in  a  compre- 
hension of  your  spiritual  opportunities  in  the  ultimate  future 
than  not  to  get  any  comprehension  of  them  at  all.  And, 
though  I  would  be  no  prophet  of  any  coming  evil,  the  chances 
and  changes  of  life  at  some  future  time  may  lead  you  to  feel 
that  your  studies  at  Heiligenfels  after  all  were  not  altogether 
wasted.*' 

It  was  not  till  later  that  Annerly  noticed  how  the  phraseology 
of  this  note,  the  kindly  feeling  of  which  was  aU  that  struck 
him  on  a  first  perusal,  was  suited  to  more  than  one  contingency. 
For  the  moment  he  studied  it  with  less  attention  than  he 
might  have  given  it  had  it  come  alone,  by  reason  of  the  fact 
that  the  same  post  brought  him  another  letter,  sent  on  from 
the  office  of  a  weekly  newspaper  with  which  he  was  closely 
connected.     This  was  as  follows  : — 

'*  Dear  Mr.  Annerly, 

"  Though  you  did  not  see  us  I  saw  you  to-day  flash  by  In  a 
hansom  cab,  as  mamma  and  I  were  driving  down  Regent 
Street.  We  are  in  town  for  two  or  three  days,  on  our  way 
to  Devonshire,  after  paying  a  country  visit.  I  am  most  eager 
to  hear  what  took  place  at  Heiligenfels  after  we  left.  I  am 
sure  all  kinds  of  interesting  things  must  have  happened.  Do 
come  and  see  me  to-morrow.  Come  any  time  during  the  day 
that  is  convenient  to  you,  in  the  morning,  to  lunch,  or  in 
the  afternoon,  but  mind  you  come,  and  send  me  a  telegram  to 
say  when  I  shall  expect  you. 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"Lucy  Yaughan." 

"  What  does  that  mean  1 "  Annerly  asked  himself.  "  Just 
what  lies  on  the  surface  or  something  more  1  She  would  be 
interested  in  the  occurrences  at  the  castle,  of  course,  but  she 
might  have  repressed  that  curiosity  if  she  had  looked  back  on 
any  of  them  with  resentment." 

He  telegraphed  to  fix  an  hour  in  the  rather  late  afternoon  for 

1     » 


244  EABMA. 

going  to  Eaton  Square  In  response  to  Miss  Vaughan's  summons, 
so  that  he  might  not  neglect  his  appointment  for  that  day  with 
Miriam  at  an  earlier  hour,  and  then  turned  to  work. 


CHAPTER  XXVn. 

THB  INBVITABLB  RESULT. 

Hb  found  her  when  he  went  to  her  in  the  afternoon  sitting  in 
a  low  easy-chair,  with  a  book  in  her  lap.  "  Miss  Seaford  is  in 
the  drawing-room,"  the  servant  had  said,  retiring,  after  opening 
the  outer  door,  to  her  own  quarters,  for  he  was  already  at  home 
in  the  house,  and  did  not,  under  the  circumstances,  require  to 
be  announced. 

"  My  queen,"  he  said,  as  he  knelt  down  by  her  chair,  doing 
affectionate  homage  to  her  on  his  entrance,  "  the  echo  of  my  old 
yearning  for  you  during  the  long  days  when  that  was  in  vain, 
makes  me  almost  tremble  with  anxiety  every  time  I  come  to 
you,  lest  the  blessed  fact  that  you  are  waiting  for  me  and 
expecting  me,  should  somehow  prove  delusive." 

"  It  is  all  one  big  delusion  in  one  way,"  she  said.  "  Why 
are  you  so  infatuated  about  me,  I  wonder  f  It  seems  a  kind  of 
madness." 

"  Not  a  kind  of  madness,  but  perhaps  a  mystery.  "We  know, 
from  the  ordinary  point  of  view  at  any  rate,  so  little  about  life, 
that  we  rarely  seek  to  go  behind  the  facts  of  any  acquaintance 
between  a  man  and  the  woman  he  is  in  love  with,  to  find  out 
the  explanation  of  that  state  of  things.  But  I  have  come  to 
realize  lately  that  two  people  may  perhaps  have  known  one 
another  a  great  deal  longer  really  in  other  states  of  existence 
than  they  are  aware  of  when  they  meet  in  this." 

During  the  days  they  had  spent  together  in  the  country  he 
had  already  told  her  a  great  deal  of  the  new  view  of  things  in 
general  he  had  obtained  at  Heiligenfels,  and  indeed  had  given 
her  the  fullest  account  of  all  the  wonders  that  had  transpired 
there  up  to  the  date  of  his  departure. 

"  I  don't  like  the  notion  of  being  all  in  the  dark  about  what 
has  taken  jdace  before.     Supposing  you  and  I  have  known  each 


THE   INEVITABLE   RESULT.  245 

other  in  some  former  life,  how  can  I  tell  how  you  behaved  to 
me  then  1  Perhaps,"  she  cried,  sitting  up  suddenly  as  though 
moved  by  a  happy  thought,  "  you  may  have  treated  me  very 
badly  before,  and  have  justified  me  in  my  behaviour  to  you  ! " 

"  If  we  knew  one  another  before,"  said  Annerly,  earnestly, 
"lam  sure  of  one  thing — that  I  loved  you  before.  I  don't 
think,  indeed,  it  wants  explanation,  the  fact  that  I  love  you 
now.  The  motive  for  that  is  quite  sufficiently  obvious,  without 
going  back  behind  this  life ;  but  if  you  don't  think  it  sufficient 
you  may  assume  that  another  lifetime  spent  in  adoring  you  was 
concentrated  in  my  nature  to  begin  with." 

"  One  should  have  been  enough." 

**  But  you  would  not  wish  that  I  had  found  it  so." 

"I  don't  know.  I  tell  you,  your  love  frightens  me  some- 
times. It  seems  more  than  is  natural.  There  is  only  one  con- 
Bolation,  you  know.     It  can't  last  like  this  if  we  get  married." 

"  If !  Won't  you  say  wheni" 

"  When  we  get  married  then.  What's  that  line  about  man 
never  being,  but  always  expecting  to  be,  blessed  T' 

"Man  never  is,  but  always  to  be  blest." 

"That's  it.  Well,  in  some  upside-down  kind  of  way,  that 
idea  might  be  applied  to  woman's  marriage.  It's  always  to  be 
but  it  never  is  a  blessed  state  of  things  for  her." 

"  Oh,  Miriam,  my  own,  if  you  could  only  realize  the  extent  to 
which  I  mean  to  make  it  a  blessed  state  for  you,  so  far  as  my 
unchangeable  worship  can  make  it  so ! " 

"  This  is  a  blessed  state,  Geordie,  except  for  horrors  that  may 
be  impending  over  me.  I  am  sure  you  are  getting  the  very 
maximum  of  happiness  it  is  possible  to  extract  from  my  society ; 
and,  considering  the  angelic  way  Aunt  Ellen  eclipses  herself  for 
your  benefit  whenever  you  come,  I  don't  know  what  more  you 
can  want." 

"  She  is  angelic.  But  I  ara  insatiable.  However,  that  does 
not  require  arguing.  At  my  queen's  own  sweet  pleasure  there 
will  come  a  time,  let  us  hope,  that  I  shall  not  be  any  more 
dependent  on  Aunt  Ellen's  goodness." 

Annerly  told  her,  soon  after  this,  about  the  note  he  had  had 
from  Miss  Yaughan  and  all  that  might  lurk  within  it  for 
Merland. 

"I  can't  suppose  that  she  would  vnrite  to  me,  Merland'i 
especial  friend,  if  she  did  not  mean  something." 


246  KARMA. 

"  And  is  Mr.  Merland  as  badly  hurt  as  you  have  been  t  ** 

"  No  one  can  compare  his  own  feelings  with  another  man's, 
jile  loved  her  most  truly,  no  doubt;  though  latterly  he  was 
reconciling  himself,  it  seemed  to  me  from  his  letters,  to  the  idea 
of  following  what  we  call  the  occult  life,  which  involves  the 
renunciation  of  all  happiness  of  the  ordinary  sort  for  the  sake 
of  subUme  spiritual  exaltation  to  be  ultimately  attained  through 
that  sacrifice." 

"  That's  the  life  you  would  have  led  if  I  had  not  crossed  your 
path  again." 

"Probably." 

"  And  don't  you  think,  Geordie,  looking  at  it  in  a  really  im- 
partial way,  that  sublime  spiritual  exaltation  might  have  been 
much  better  for  you  than — me  1 " 

"  You  see  what  the  election  was  that  I  made  when  the  two 
opportunities  were  offered  to  me." 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  realized  that  fully  before,"  she  said 
reflectively ;  "  that  after  all  I  have  spoilt  your  life ;  even  if  I 
give  you  myself — as  we  have  arranged — to  get  tired  of  at  your 
leisure." 

''Miriam,  my  darling,  let  us  hope  you  will  be  graciously 
pleased  not  to  talk  like  that  any  more.  Have  I  failed  to  make 
you  understand  the  extent  to  which  I  thirsted  for  you  ?  Shall 
I  begin  the  explanation  all  over  again  1  I  am  never  tired  of  it 
for  my  part." 

But  Miriam  would  not  quit  the  subject,  and  questioned 
Annerly  closely  in  regard  to  the  expectations  he  had  been  led 
to  form  as  to  what  it  might  have  been  possible  for  him  to 
achieve  if  he  had  devoted  his  life  entirely  to  becoming  a  follower 
and  disciple  of  Baron  von  Mondstern.  Annerly  naturally  rated 
at  their  lowest  the  possibilities  that  would  have  laiu  before 
him,  but  then  she  followed  up  the  other  lead  suggested  by 
Merland's  position. 

"  Xow  supposing  this  young  lady  says  she  is  ready  to  accept 
your  friend,  and  supposing  your  friend  comes  to  you  for  advice 
as  to  what  he  should  do  under  the  circumstances,  what  would 
you  say  ? " 

"  My  queen,  it  is  always  incumbent  on  every  one  to  give 
every  one  else  about  to  marry  the  well-known  advice  of  Pwich, 
because  the  people  for  whom  it  is  inappropriate,  will  not  take 
it" 


TH«   INEVITABLE    RESULT.  247 

•*  Will  yon  please  to  give  me  a  serioufl  answer  t  Mr.  Merland, 
I  understand,  has  great  respect  for  your  advice  and  influence. 
You  Tvill  not  deal  with  him  at  random  in  such  a  matter  1 " 

"  Well,  then,  I  should  never  seriously  dream  of  doing  more 
than  putting  the  alternatives  fairly  before  him.  I  would  try  to 
he  sui'e  he  was  not  acting  from  an  immature  caprice  in  turning 
aside  fi'om  that  Hfe,  which,  if  a  man  can  tread  it  with  cheerful 
deterruination,  may  lead  to  something  not  necessarily  a  happier 
state  than  a  happy  life  of  the  ordinary  kind,  but  probably  higher 
in  the  scale  of  nature.  But,  if  I  had  reason  to  believe  Merland'a 
love  for  Miss  Vaughan  came  at  all  within  any  range  of  com- 
parison with  mine  for  you,  then  I  should  counsel  Mm  to  marry 
her  if  he  has  the  chance." 

"  Ah,  you  say  that  to  justify  youi*self." 

"  I  say  that  because  I  have  iiad  certain  experiences  that  I 
would  not  wish  Merland  to  have." 

It  will  be  seen  that  ^Miriam's  mood  on  this  occasion  was  not 
exactly  in  harmony  with  that  which  had  been  stirred  for  a 
time  in  the  "  enchanted  wood."  She  would  nut  let  go  the  idea 
that  had  just  presented  itself  to  her  mind,  that  her  lover  would 
have  had  a  superior  career  open  to  him  if  he  had  not  elected 
to  resume  the  interrupted  course  of  his  engagement  to  her. 

"My  Miriam!"  Annerly  at  last  urged  in  pathetic  entreaty, 
"  will  you  not  consent  to  put  me  out  of  the  question  for  a  time, 
and  think  of  yourself  1  As  things  have  fidlen  out,  aro  you  not 
content  for  your  o^vn  sake  that  you  did  cross  my  path  again  ? " 

She  gave  him  her  hand  voluntarily  at  this  appeal 

"I  was  very  miserable,  Geordie,  I  confess,  and  you  com- 
forted me.  Well,  let  us  hope  it  is  all  for  the  best,  and — well, 
since  you  quite  finally  mean  not  to  turn  back,  wo  may  as  well 
perhaps  think  about  —the  date  when  it  is  to  be." 

"  ^Vhen  I  hear  you  say  that,"  Annerly  murmured  to  her 
almost  reverently,  *'  you  give  me  such  intense  delight  that  it 
Beems  as  if  I  had  never  been  truly  happy  until  this  moment." 

Still  the  date  was  not  actually  fixed. 

"  I  will  think  about  it  while  you  are  away,  and  let  you  know 
this  evening,"  she  said,  for  it  had  been  arranged  that  he  should 
return  again  after  dining  in  town. 

When  he  went  away,  she  sat  still  in  the  arm-chair  beside  the 
little  writing-table  in  the  window,  thinking  vaguely,  unoccupied 
and  listless.     She  was  only  roused  from  this  reverie,  after  a  con- 

17 


248  KABMA. 

siderable  lapse  of  time,  by  the  entrance  of  the  servant  with  a 
letter  for  her — the  Professor's  letter. 

She  was  not  listless  now.  She  sprang  up  and  moved  about 
the  room  in  fierce  excitement.  She  could  not  have  told  what 
the  emotion  was  that  possessed  her.  Her  aunt  came  into  the 
drawing-room,  dressed  for  going  out,  but  she  kept  herself  in 
hand,  and  said  nothing  of  the  letter  she  was  actually  holding 
during  the  few  minutes  her  aunt  spoke  to  her.  She  was  con- 
stitutionally reserved,  and  it  would  have  been  an  effort  for  her, 
instead  of  a  natural  impulse,  to  have  told  even  her  aunt  of  the 
dilemma  in  which  she  was  placed  at  that  early  moment  of  its 
development. 

"  I  mean  to  go  over  and  call  on  the  Blenkinsops,  darling. 
Would  you  like  to  come  too,  or  would  you  rather  rest  quietly 
at  home  to-day  ? " 

To  Miss  Jameson's  constant  tenderness  Miriam  was  always 
assumed  to  be  in  need  of  rest  and  nursing. 

"  I'll  stop  at  home,  aunty  dear,"  she  said  without  hesitation. 

Miss  Jameson  noticed  that  she  was  a  little  nervous,  but  put 
it  down  to  the  strain  of  her  emotions,  and  bade  her  good-bye 
with  affectionate  kisses. 

"  Fate  leaves  me  alone  to  receive  him,"  Miriam  said  to  her- 
self. 

She  gave  no  orders  to  the  servant.  She  let  things  drift. 
She  heard  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  the  entrance  of  a  visitor. 
An  impulse  not  to  be  surprised  in  apparent  agitation  made  her 
turn  to  the  writing-table  in  the  window,  at  which  she  sat  down, 
beginning  to  push  about  some  of  the  letters  and  papers  before 
her,  without  thought  of  what  they  were,  and  it  was  in  this 
position  that  the  Professor  first  caught  sight  of  her  as  he  came 
into  the  room.  It  flashed  upon  him  vividly  that  it  was  thus, 
at  a  little  table  before  the  window  in  a  smaU  sitting-room,  that 
Mrs.  Lakesby  had  seen  her  in  the  clairvoyant  vision  of  her 
caught  for  a  moment  during  his  last  morning  at  Heiligenfels, 
in  the  clairvoyant  vision  which  had  conveyed  to  Mrs.  Lakesby 
the  impression  that  the  woman  so  seen,  loved  him. 

•*  My  dear  child  1 "  he  said,  with  a  commanding  sort  of  ten- 
derness as  he  came  across  to  her.  She  stood  up  as  he  came  in 
and  turned  round  without  speaking,  with  a  frown  upon  her 
brows,  leaning  back  against  the  table  with  one  hand  upon  it 
behind  her. 


THB   INEVITABLE   RESULT,  249 

*'  It  does  me  good  to  see  yon  again,"  he  went  on.  •*  Shake 
hands  at  all  events.  That's  right,"  as  she  slowly  lifted  her 
hand  to  meet  the  one  he  held  ont,  unhesitatingly.  "  I  come 
to  you  with  proposals  you  may  not  care  to  accept,  but  at  all 
events  you  can't  reproach  me  for  making  them,  so  we  can  talk 
them  over  like  friends  anyhow." 

**  You  deceived  me,'*  she  said.  They  were  nearly  the  last 
words  she  had  spoken  to  him  at  their  parting,  nearly  a  year 
ago.  It  was  not  with  any  set  purpose  that  she  opened  the 
conversation  this  way.  She  had  not  intended  to  speak  those 
words  in  particular,  but  they  rose  to  her  lips  in  obedience  to 
what  seemed  the  necessity  that  she  should  say  something. 

"My  dear  child,"  replied  the  Professor,  almost  laughing, 
"  that  was  what  you  said  to  me  before.  Of  course  I  did.  The 
situation  was  too  complicated  to  admit  of  entire  candour  at  the 
outset.  But  I  only  deceived  you  in  a  detail ;  and  I  wiU  tell  you 
of  one  matter  in  which  I  defy  you  to  say  I  deceived  you.  I 
never  deceived  you  when  I  said  I  loved  you  ;  I  never  deceived 
you  when  I  said  I  wished  it  had  been  in  my  power  to  marry  you ; 
and  I  stand  here  now  to  ask  you  if  I  did  not  tell  truth  in  those 
principal  things  ? " 

"  It  does  not  matter  now  which  way  it  was,  but  if  you  had 
not  wounded  me  by  the  deception  I  speak  of,  things  might  be 
different." 

'*  My  dear  Miriam,"  said  the  Professor  in  his  frankest  manner, 
"  I  could  not  help  myself.  You  would  never  have  listened  to 
me  in  the  first  instance  if  you  had  kno'wn  then  that  I  had 
been  a  married  man.  But  don't  harp  any  longer  on  that  old 
string.  Let  us  look  to  the  future  in  a  practical  way,  by  the 
light  of  new  circumstances  that  have  arisen.  Now  do  sit  down 
quietly  like  the  grandly  sensible  girl  you  are,  and  let  us  talk. 
No,  don't  you  sit  there.  You  take  this  easy-chair,  and  make  your- 
self comfortable.  I'll  sit  there— I  like  upright  chairs.  That's 
better.  Now  do  answer  me  a  plain  straightforward  question  to 
begin  with,  and  then  I  shall  know  how  to  deal  with  you.  Have 
you  fallen  in  love  with  our  friend  Annerly  1 " 

"  What  right  have  you  to  ask  me  the  question  1 "  she  cried 
impetuously. 

The  Professor  put  up  one  hand,  waved  it  slightly  as  in  de- 
precation of  her  tone,  and  in  the  gentlest  and  most  tzpla- 
natory  way  replied, — 


250  KABMA. 

**  No  right  whatever.  It  isn't  a  question  of  right.  We're 
just  talking  over  certain  things  of  great  moment  to  you,  and 
you  know  quite  well  that  I  have  your  welfare  at  heart  in  what 
I  say.  Everything  is  in  your  own  hands  to  do  exactly  as 
you  please — you  are  strong  enough  to  take  your  own  course. 
But  there  isn't  any  sort  of  reason  why  you  should  not  listen  to 
what  I  say  and  take  it  into  consideration.  You  are  thinking, 
I  know,  of  marrying  Annerly.  Well,  you  will  be  equally  able 
to  do  that,  if  you  are  resolved  about  it,  after  hearing  why, 
in  my  opinion,  it  would  be  better  for  you  to  wait  a  little  longer 
and  marry  me." 

"  Wait  a  little  longer !  Has  anybody  told  you  that  I  am 
in  a  hurry  ?  " 

**  There  is  such  a  thing  as  acting  precipitately,  without  being 
in  a  hurry  in  the  sense  of  being  eager." 

The  Professor  betrayed  no  triumph,  but  he  felt  from  the 
flavour  of  her  retort  that  Mrs.  Lakesby's  impression  was 
already  half  vindicated  at  all  events.  She  did  not  love 
Annerly. 

"  You  have  taken  me  by  surprise.  I  do  not  feel  sure  that 
I  would  have  consented  to  see  you  at  all  if  I  had  thought 
the  matter  over  more  at  leisure." 

There  was  a  great  contrast  between  her  manner  in  talking 
to  Professor  Massilton  and  that  which  was  usual  to  her  with 
Annerly.  With  either  she  could  not  but  be  queenly  and 
graceful ;  with  neither  was  she  nervous  or  timid.  But  with 
Annerly  the  grand  slow  movements  of  her  neck  and  head,  the 
dignity  of  her  smile,  so  different  from  the  seductive,  inviting 
smile  of  coquetry,  would  have  seemed,  to  any  observer  who 
could  have  compared  her  two  moods,  plainly  associated  with 
lethargy  of  the  emotions.  Noav,  in  talking  to  the  Professor, 
she  was  still  proud  and  self-controlled,  but  her  outward  calm 
was  produced  by  the  exercise  of  a  strong  will,  crushing  down 
an  internal  excitement. 

"I  am  sure  you  would  have  seen  me,  in  any  case,"  said 
the  Professor;  "for  to  have  shrunk  from  that  would  have 
been  a  weakness,  and  you  are  never  weak.  You  may  tell  me 
to  be  gone  after  listening  to  what  I  have  got  to  say,  because  you 
will  act  as  you  please,  but,  even  if  you  do  that,  I  believe  you 
will  give  me  a  reason  for  refusing  my  proposals,  because  to  deny 
me  that  would  be  rude,  and  you  are  never  rude." 


THE   INEVITABLE    RESULT.  251 

T^firiam  was  not  moved  to  make  any  reply  to  this.  She  leaned 
back  in  her  chair,  and,  as  her  head  rested  against  the  hack  with 
her  face  partly  turned  up,  her  clear  grey  eyes  looked  straight 
into  her  visitor's  face,  and  she  held  her  features  in  expressionless 
and  statuesque  repose,  though  her  heightened  colour — heighten- 
ing her  beauty — and  her  quickened  breathing  enabled  her  saga- 
cious suitor  to  make  allowances  for  her  chilly  bearing  and  the 
affected  iciness  of  the  tone  in  which  she  spoke.  He  himself  sat 
beside  the  opposite  comer  of  the  writing-table  with  one  arm 
resting  on  it,  and  his  manner  was  easy  and  natural,  his  bearing 
frank,  sunny,  and  cheerful  as  usual.  The  large  proportions  of 
the  man — nowhere  associated  with  the  coarseness  or  clumsiness 
of  shape  that  comes  on  so  often  in  middle  life — his  perfect 
healthiness,  that  made  him  pleasant  to  look  upon  in  a  greater 
degree  than  better  claims  to  be  considered  handsome  might  have 
rendered  another  man — all  these  attributes,  uniting  to  produce 
an  exhilarating  emanation  from  his  presence,  were  very  apparent 
to  Miriam  as  she  steadily  gazed  at  him  while  he  spoke. 

*'  I  have  not  come  to  you  before,  because  I  had  nothing  fresh 
to  say,  and  you  made  up  your  mind  that  our  old  relationship 
should  end,  but  I  come  to  you  now  because  the  complexion  of 
affairs  has  changed.  I  committed  a  great  act  of  folly  in  marry- 
ing Lady  Emily,  and  I  was  powerless  to  undo  it.  Happily  she 
is  going  to  undo  it  for  me.  This  will  cost  me  a  good  deal  of 
money,  but  it  won't  ruin  me.  It  will  cost  you,  my  poor  dear, 
and  that  is  a  great  deal  worse,  a  great  deal  of  annoyance,  but 
that  wonH  last.  Now,  if  we  marry  immediately  we  are  able,  a 
world  prone  to  forgetfulness  will  hardly  nourish  any  resentment 
against  you.  In  a  little  while  people  will  only  remember 
vaguely  that  there  was  something  funny  about  the  Massiltons 
before  they  were  married.  If  you  marry  Annerly  the  whole 
situation  wiU  look  quite  different.  You  will  have  nothing  to 
live  for  but  his  affection,  which  may  be  very  great.  I  don't 
doubt  that  it  is  very  great.  How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  But 
any  woman  who  marries  a  man  merely  to  oblige  him,  without 
ardently  wishing  it  herself  too,  is  preparing  an  awful  future  for 
him.  For,  I  tell  you,  no  woman  living  is  strong  enough  to  play, 
to  the  end,  a  part,  in  such  a  business  as  marriage.  A  love 
that  you  don't  return  may  still  be  pleasant  for  you  to  receive 
for  the  moment>  but  it  will  be  terribly  irksome  to  you  in  the 
long  run,** 


262  KARMA. 

"  And  suppose  I  have  given  promises.  Are  they  to  count  ioi 
nothing  r* 

"  Promises  are  terrible  things.  I  do  not  underrate  them  for 
an  instant.  But  people  may  be  released  from  promises,  and  no 
man  worth  the  name  would  hold  a  woman  against  her  will  to  a 
promise  of  the  kind  we  are  talking  of." 

Miriam  was  in  rather  a  helpless  position  in  the  argument 
because  she  could  not  rebuke  the  Professor's  appeal  to  her  own 
interests  as  an  appeal  to  selfishness.  That  would  have  been 
tantamount  to  admitting  that  her  inclinations  would  deliver 
her  into  his  hands.  On  the  other  hand  she  found  it  difficult 
to  declare  boldly  her  devotion  to  Annerly,  and  supreme  inclina- 
tion, above  all  things,  to  keep  her  newly-plighted  troth.  The 
conversation  went  on  for  a  long  time,  as  it  had  begun,  fed  by 
a  few  disjointed  remarks  from  Miriam,  from  time  to  time,  but 
supported  mainly  by  the  Professor,  who  expanded  and  amplified 
the  theme  of  his  letter  with  great  ease,  freedom,  and  eloquence. 
Of  his  own  love  for  her  he  spoke  as  of  a  topic  which  it  would 
be  obtrusive  on  his  part  to  press  for  the  present. 

"  You  know  I  love  you,"  he  pointed  out ;  "  you  know  I 
never  wavered  in  that,  never  wished  to  interrupt  our  rela- 
tions, which  constituted  a  true  marriage  in  all  but  legality.  You 
know  by  my  presence  here  to-day,  without  a  word  more  said, 
that  I  love  you  still,  so  I  won't  dwell  upon  that." 

It  was  a  great  strain  upon  Miriam's  self-c:  inmand  to  keep 
up  an  appearance  of  composure.  Tom  as  she  really  was  by 
conflicting  feelings,  it  was  inevitable  that  this  should  break 
down  sooner  or  later.  The  incident  which  upset  her  equani- 
mity, as  things  turned  out,  was  a  remark  of  the  Professor's, 
which  he  almost  threw  off  as  a  joke — 

"  Has  it  ever  struck  you  that  you  took  a  mean  advantage  of 
me  in  running  away  and  breaking  off  what  I  have  so  justly 
called  our  true  marriage  1  You  just  left  me  in  a  pet  and  made 
me  very  miserable  because  I  had  no  legal  hold  over  you.  If  it 
had  not  been  for  my  previous  entanglements  we  should  have 
been  married  like  other  people,  but,  as  it  happened  that  we 
could  not  be,  you  were  free  to  break  faith  with  me." 

"  Oh,  how  dare  you  put  the  fault  on  me  like  that  after  all  I 
have  gone  through  1  ** 

Her  lips  quivered  and  her  eyes  filled,  but  still  she  main- 
tained a  Httle  longer  her  attempt  not  to  cry  outright. 


THE   INEVITABLB   EBSULT.  263 

*My  dear  Miriam,  I  don't  want  to  reproach  you.  I  only 
ask  you  to  look  at  the  facts  as  they  really  stand  in  order  that 
you  may  not  reproach  me  undeservedly.  I  think  you  are 
taking  a  distorted  view  of  the  whole  position.  I  was  quite 
true  to  you  in  act  and  feeling,  and  never  meant  to  he  anything 
else.  The  more  I  think  the  thing  over  the  less,  it  seems  to 
me,  I  am  to  blame.  Fox  all  the  stuff  of  a  quarrel  that  there 
was  between  us  we  ought  to  have  made  it  up  thoroughly  in 
two  days  at  the  outside." 

A  vivid  reminiscence  of  all  the  pain  she  might  have  saved 
herself  if  she  had  taken  that  view  of  the  matter  at  the  time 
swept  over  her  consciousness,  and  with  it  the  ghastly  conviction 
that  the  new  path  she  had  chalked  out  for  herself  did  not 
really  allure  her  footsteps.  The  emotions  that  assailed  her 
were  almost  written  on  her  face  as  she  looked  wildly  up  to  the 
ceiling. 

*'  Now  won't  you  think  if  it  isn't  time  for  us  to  be  friends 
again  1  You  used  to  be  happy  with  me,  Mirry  darling,  and  I'm 
just  as  much  in  love  with  you  as  ever." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  saying !  *'  and  now  the 
breakdown  finally  came,  and,  turning  round  towards  the  back 
of  the  easy-chair,  she  buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief  and 
sobbed  outright.  The  Professor  came  over  and  stood  beside 
her  chair,  leaning  on  the  back  and  very  gently  stroking  her  head. 

"  Poor  darling  !  you  must  have  been  unhappy.  Why  did 
not  you  write  and  tell  me  so  1  I  couldn't  come  to  you  without 
some  sign  after  the  way  you  left  me.  But  now,  just  give  me 
your  hand  and  you  need  not  say  another  word,  and  it  will  be  all 
right  again  between  us.  I  respect  your  free  will  so  much,  you 
see,  that,  till  you  give  me  a  sign,  I  will  not  even  touch  you,  to 
speak  of." 

"  I  tell  you  he  will  go  mad.  You  don't  know  the  way  he 
loves  me." 

"  And  I  teU  you  if  you  marry  a  man  you  don't,  for  your  own 
sake,  want  to  marry,  no  matter  how  he  loves  you,  you  will  have 
gone  mad.  Such  a  reckless  sacrifice  is  the  most  shocking  thing 
I  ever  heard  of.     It  would  shock  Annerly  if  he  understood  it." 

"  I  do  not  pretend — "  She  did  not  finish  the  sentence  in 
that  way,  but  beginning  it  afresh,  after  a  pause,  "  I  treated 
him  badly  when  I  threw  him  over  before ;  to  do  it  again  now 
is  impossible.*' 

17 


254  KARMA. 

"  What  a  pity  Annerly  is  not  here.  If  he  heard  yon  say 
that,  and  felt  all  that  it  covers,  the  whole  problem  would  be 
solved. " 

"It  would  kill  him." 

"  I  am  sure  he  would  suffer,  but  I  respect  him  too  much  to 
believe  that  he  would  not  rather  bear  anything  than  hold  you  to 
a  promise  against  your  will,  and  wreck  your  happiness  for  life. 
If  you  don't  love  him — and  that  is  clear — he  must  know  it. 
But  he  may  have  most  erroneously  supposed  that  his  was  the 
only  protection  available  for  you ;  and  then,  loving  you,  he 
would  of  course  marry  you  at  any  risk,  hoping  that  it  would  be 
the  best  thing  for  you.  Now  look  here,  Mirry  darling.  Shall 
I  explain  matters  to  him,  if  it  is  too  painful  for  you  1  You  can 
see  him  afterwards,  to  be  sure  I  have  explained  them  right ; 
but  I  know  you  will  trust  me  to  be  honest  in  the  matter, 
and  I  swear  to  you  I  will  manage  the  matter  in  a  way  that  shaU 
be  most  tender  and  respectful  to  his  feelings." 

At  first  she  would  only  declare  that  it  would  be  better  for 
her  to  die.  But  her  victorious  lover  felt  that  her  surrender 
could  only  be  a  question  of  time.  On  his  side  there  were  all 
the  forces  of  her  own  desire,  and  the  memories  of  the  happy  time 
they  had  spent  together ;  all  the  prospects  of  future  happiness, 
of  a  recovered  position  in  the  world.  On  the  other,  there  was 
merely  her  terror  at  the  thought  of  what  her  second  desertion 
of  him  would  mean  for  Annerly.  The  Professor  accidentally 
touched  a  powerful  note  when  he  said,  in  the  course  of  their 
talk,— 

"  I  honestly  believe  that  it  will  be  better  for  Annerly  in  the 
long  run  not  to  many,  even  though  that  means  the  loss  of  you 
There  may  be  great  destinies  in  store  for  him  along  another  path 
in  life,  which  he  is  altogether  fitted  for,  but  for  this  disastrous 
passion  for  you." 

"  Oh,  if  he  could  only  think  so  ! "  said  Miriam. 

"My  dear,  I  don't  propose  that  you  should  desert  him,  I 
merely  say — let  him  understand  the  truth  and  judge  for  himself. 
I  think  better  of  him  than  you  seem  to  ;  he  will  rather  sacrifice 
himself  than  you,  and  in  the  long  run  he  will  realize  that,  even 
as  regards  himself,  that  sacrifice  will  be  rewarded  by  triumphs  of 
a  wholly  different  sort  from  those  he  is  aiming  at  now.  Only 
don't  let  him  hurry  us  all  bUndfold  to  destruction  without 
knowing  what  he  is  about,  and  how  the  whole  matter  really 


A   DOUBLE    DISAPPOINTMENT.  255 

stands.  I  will  do  nothing  without  your  leave,  but  understand 
what  I  propose.  I  will  write  to  him,  if  you  do  not  positively 
forbid  me,  telling  him  the  whole  truth  from  myself.  I  will  not 
say  I  am  telling  it  as  a  message  from  you.  I  will  merely  tell 
him  to  refer  to  you,  if  he  doubts  me,  for  confirmation  of  the 
facts,  and  then  leave  him  to  act  as  a  man  of  honour  should  If 
he  still  resolves  that  you  shall  sacrifice  yourself,  then  you  will 
still  be  at  liberty  to  do  so." 

A  little  later  he  said, — 

"  Now  if  you  want  all  our  lives  to  be  wrecked  on  a  fatjj  mis- 
understanding for  want  of  courage  to  speak  truth,  you  will  refuse 
me  your  hani"  He  took  her  hand  as  he  spoke — and  she  left  it 
in  his  grasp. 


CHAPTER  XXVm. 

A   DOUBLE   DISAPPOINTMENT. 

Annbrlt  had  been  spending  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon 
very  pleasantly  in  the  back  drawing-room  of  the  Vaughans* 
house  in  Eaton  Square,  supplied  by  the  beautiful  Lucy  with 
tea,  in  fragile  cups  of  extraordinary  perfection,  in  the  corner  of 
a  couch  overshadowed  by  a  magnificent  palm-tree,  which  stood 
just  within  the  drawing-room,  against  the  open  glass-doors 
leading  into  a  large  conservatory  filled  with  tropic  growths  of 
luxuriant  splendour.  Lucy  often  declared  that  she  never  felt 
quite  sure  whether  she  was  a  sybarite  or  an  ascetic,  for  she 
gathered  so  many  nice  things  about  her,  but  cared  for  them  so 
little. 

"  What  I  care  about  now,  Mr.  Aimerly,"  she  said,  **  is  to 
hear  all  that  passed  at  Heiligenfels  after  we  left — every  single 
thing.  I  have  not  had  a  letter  from  any  one  there,  and  I  want 
to  be  told  everything." 

Annerly  went  over  the  whole  story  in  as  much  detail  as  possible, 
and  day  by  day.  Miss  Vaughan  asked  questions,  as  he  went 
along,  about  every  one  concerned,  and  her  face  flamed  with 
excitement  at  the  narrative  of  what  had  taken  place  in  the 
wood. 


256  KARMA. 

"  1  wonder  when  I  shall  he  ahle  to  see  the  Baron  again ! 
What  is  all  the  rest  of  society  compared  to  him  1  And  Mrs. 
Lakeshy  too.  What  a  perfectly  fascinating  creature  she  is ! 
One  seems  to  he  living  in  two  worlds  at  once  when  she  is  with 
one." 

Annerly  cordially  endorsed  these  praises. 

"  But  about  seeing  the  Baron  again,"  he  said,  "  I  do  not  know 
when  we  shall  any  of  us  have  an  opportunity  for  that  after  the 
party  at  the  castle  breaks  up,  for  he  is  going  to  disappear  then 
into  some  retirement  of  his  own,  where  none  of  us  will  be  able 
to  follow  him." 

"  Good  heavens,  how  horrible !  But  how  long  is  he  to  be 
away?" 

"  I  can*t  say.  I  hope  he  may  return  sooner  or  later,  that 
some  of  us  may  see  him  again,  but  it  looks  very  uncertain.  I 
know  he  thinks  that  after  having  given  such  extraordinary 
exhibitions  of  the  occult  power  he  possesses,  it  would  be  impos- 
sible for  him  to  live  again  in  ordinary  society  as  he  did  in  London 
last  season." 

"  Where's  the  impossibility  1 " 

"Partly  that  his  life  would  be  one  continuous  resistance  to 
importunity  on  the  part  of  people  who  would  beg  for  further 
displays  of  occult  power — which,  for  various  reasons,  he  would 
be  precluded  from  giving;  but  in  a  greater  degree,  I  think, 
because  he  wants  to  get  the  principles  of  occult  philosophy  con- 
sidered on  their  own  merits  by  the  thinking  world  instead  of 
being  illuminated  by  the  artificial  excitement  that  fresh  displays 
of  occult  power  would  bring  about.  I  know  he  is  fond  of  say- 
ing that  what  ought  to  be  done  now  can  better  be  done  by  such 
men  as  Blane  and  Professor  Massilton" — the  name  was  one 
which  Annerly  found  rather  hard  to  pronounce  in  a  natural 
tone — "  than  by  himself." 

"  But  this  is  a  shocking  scandal  about  Professor  Massilton." 

"  Of  course  it  is.  All  that  developed  since  I  left  the  castle, 
and  I  hardly  know  how  the  Baron  takes  it.  But  I  gather  from 
Merland  that,  by  some  intricate  reasoning,  the  Baron  treats 
what  seems  the  gross  unfitness  of  such  a  man  as  the  Professor, 
regarded  as  the  exponent  of  a  new  quasi- religious  philosophy, 
as  all  in  the  plan  somehow.  I  do  not  pretend  to  interpret 
this." 

"Bat  what  is  the  plant* 


A   DOUBLE   DISAPPOINTMENT.  257 

•*  Books  are  to  be  written  and  some  society  formed  for  the 
propagation  of  the  ideas  the  Baron  has  been  communicating  to 
us  all." 

*'  If  books  are  to  be  written  I  suppose  you  have  your  share  of 
the  work  todol" 

"  I  trust  I  may  stiU  have  some  share  of  it ;  but  when  I  left 
Heiligenfels  I  was  rather  looking  forward  to  a  closer  and  more 
important  course  of  study  than  seems  possible  for  me  now — 
other  responsibilities  have  arisen  since  then  to  absorb  my 
energies." 

"  Good  Heavens !  What  can  have  drawn  you  away  from 
such  opportunities  as  that?  At  least,  I  beg  your  pardon,  I 
have  no  business  to  ask  you  questions  of  that  sort.  Only 
it  seems  to  me  as  if  nothing  could  be  interesting  enough 
to  draw  one  away  from  following  up  such  an  opening  as  you 
speak  of." 

"  It's  very  simple,  Miss  Yaughan.  There  is  only  one  force 
that  could  have  been  strong  enough.  But  I  have  long  been 
very  deeply  in  love  with  a  lady  whom,  till  very  recently,  I  had 
no  hope  of  winning.  Since  then  it  has  become  possible  for  me 
to  marry  her,  and  I  am  about  to  do  so." 

Miss  Vaughan  looked  puzzled  and  surprised. 

"  Why  should  that  put  an  end  to  your  friendship  with  the 
Baron  1  Does  the  lady  object  to  your  going  on  with  occultism  1 
Is  she  prejudiced  ? " 

Annerly  laughed.  He  was  too  happy  to  see  any  but  the 
amusing  side  of  the  idea. 

"  No,  she  is  not  prejudiced  at  all.  But  occult  science  in  its 
highest  aspects  is  a  very  jealous  mistress.  A  man  must  give 
himself  up  to  that  entirely  and  have  no  other  ties  in  the  world 
if  he  would  succeed  in  that  career." 

As  he  spoke  he  noticed  a  shadow  on  Lucy's  face,  and  it 
occurred  to  him  that  she  might  put  a  construction  on  his  words 
which  Merland  would  perhaps  be  very  sorry  to  have  her  put. 
After  a  brief  hesitation  he  added, — 

"  I  hope  that  the  change  in  my  plans  will  only  mean  a  change 
in  the  nature  of  my  usefulness  in  this  matter.  I  may  not  be 
able  to  retire  into  the  kind  of  monastic  seclusion  that  would  be 
necessary  for  my  own  personal  development — for  the  acquisition, 
in  some  smaU  degree,  of  the  faculties  we  have  seen  the  Baron 
exercise, — but  the  study  of  occultism,  the  interpretation  of  the 

8 


258  KAEMA. 

pursuit  to  the  world,  and  the  task  of  elucidating  the  truth  for 
the  benefit  of  others,  will  be  open  to  me  as  much  as  ever.  I 
am  not  at  all  sure  but  that  I  may  be  of  more  real  service  that 
way — that  anybody  may  be — thaii  by  obtaining  personal  develop- 
ment for  himself." 

"  Mrs.  Lakesby  has  got  wonderful  powers  and  she  has  not 
gone  into  a  monastery.** 

**She  was  bom  with  them.  But  the  truth  is  that  *  powers* 
are  not  the  objects  at  which  a  true  student  of  occultism  should 
aim.  He  should  seek  a  comprehension  of  nature  and  the  adap- 
tation of  his  own  nature  to  the  highest  development  possible 
for  him." 

The  conversation  went  on  for  some  time  longer  in  a  vague 
and  desultory  manner.     Then  Miss  Vaughan  said, — 

"Tell  me,  Mr.  Annerly :  suppose  some  one  else  you  cared 
about  was  in  doubt  whether  to  be  an  occult  monk  or  to  lead  an 
ordinary  life  in  the  world  in  the  way  he  would  most  wish  to, 
what  would  you  advise  him  to  do  t " 

^  She  spoke  gravely  and  earnestly,  and  Annerly  was  thrilled 
with  admiration  for  the  thought  that  he  perceived  working  in 
her  mind.  But  his  chief  anxiety  was  to  be  sure  that  nothing 
he  said  should  rob  Merland  of  the  opening  that  might  be 
developing  before  him. 

"  Miss  Vaughan,  my  own  act  that  I  have  told  you  of  is  the 
most  eloquent  answer  I  can  give.  I  know  this  much,  that  if  a 
man  really  loves  a  woman  there  is  no  misery  possible  for  him  so 
bad  as  having  to  give  her  up.  I  do  not  believe  that  he  could 
ever  do  any  good  in  the  path  such  men  as  Baron  von  Mondstern 
tread,  if  he  took  to  that  as  a  pis-aller  when  the  path  he  would 
have  trodden  should  be  closed  to  him.  I  would  only  warn  such 
a  friend  as  you  imagine  against  falling  victim  to  a  caprice.  A 
real  love  once  formed  would  be  a  fact  in  his  life  that  it  would 
be  useless  and  fatal  to  oppose." 

But  he  could  not  translate  these  abstract  theories  into  a  direct 
application  in  the  absence  of  any  fuller  declaration  of  her  mean- 
ing from  Miss  Vaughan,  and  as  he  went  on  talking  up  the  air 
about  the  whole  subject  he  failed  to  revive  the  brightness  and 
vivacity  of  his  companion.  In  the  beginning  of  their  talk  he 
felt  sure  she  had  intended  to  give  him  some  specific  message  for 
Merland.  Now  he  could  not  elicit  this  from  her  by  any  devices. 
He  even  talked  of  perhaps  going  back  to  Heiligenf els  for  a  little 


A    DOUBLE   DISAPPOINTMENT.  259 

while  before  returning  to  settle  his  own  affairs.  Could  he  take 
any  messages  from  her  to  any  of  them  there  t  She  would  have 
her  best  love  given  to  Mrs.  Lakesby,  she  said,  and  to  Mrs,  Miller 
too,  of  course  ;  "  and  you  must  tell  the  Baron  I  shall  die  if — but 
no.  He  is  too  great  to  be  talked  to  in  any  frivolous,  nonsensical 
manner.  It  is  hardly  worth  while  for  you  to  mention  having 
seen  me  at  all  We  are  going  down  to  Devonshire  to-morrow 
or  next  day.  You  will  write  to  me  if  anything  more  of  special 
interest  takes  place — won't  you,  Mr.  Annerly  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  will  do  anything  you  wish,"  Annerly  said,  now 
profoundly  annoyed  at  the  turn  things  had  taken,  and  with 
himself. 

"I  like  engaged  men,  Mr.  Annerly;  one  can  make  such 
friends  of  them.  Now  mind,  it  is  not  a  mere  promise  to  be 
made  to-day  and  forgotten  to-morrow — this  about  writing  to 
me.  Write  fully,  will  you,  the  day  after  to-morrow  to  Devon- 
shire 1  Something  is  sure  to  have  happened  by  that  time.  And 
when  are  you  going  over  1 " 

"  What"!     To  Germany  I " 

"Yes." 

**  I  had  not  fixed  any  definite  day.  I  would  have  gone  any 
day  if  there  had  been  any  special  service  to  render  you  by 
doing  so." 

"  How  could  that  be  ? — what  nonsense  !  But  you  will  be  in 
town  for  the  next  two  or  three  days,  in  any  case  1 " 

"  Certainly." 

"  That's  all  right.  I  have  got  your  address,  have  I  not  f  Is 
there  any  hurry  for  you  to  go  I  Well,  it  is  so  kind  of  you  to 
have  come,  and  I  am  so  much  obliged.  By-the-bye,  Mr. 
Annerly,  I  do  hope  you  will  be  happy  in  your  marriage." 

He  had  already  risen  to  go,  and  was  saying  good-bye,  when 
she  thus  gave  him  her  good  wishes.  The  reference  enabled  him 
to  make  one  more  covert  allusion  to  the  subject  he  was  most 
deeply  engrossed  with  for  the  moment. 

"  Miss  Vaughan,  I  believe  I  am  going  to  be  happy — happy 
as  it  has  not  seemed  possible  for  me  to  dream  of  being  for 
several  years  past ;  and  though,  of  all  at  the  castle,  I  perhaps 
had  the  best  chance  of  acceptance  by  the  Baron  in  more  inti- 
mate relations  than  those  any  of  us  have  yet  had  with  him, 
the  prospect  I  speak  of  fully  reconciles  me — more  than 
reconciles  me — to  the  loss  of  that   chance,     I  do  not  think 

8  2 


260  EABMA. 

women  realize,  In  all  cases,  what  they  may  sometimes  be  to 
men." 

Miss  Vaughan  looked  at  him  full  in  the  eyes,  earnestly  and 
thoughtfully,  as  he  spoke.  Annerly  waited  for  her  to  answer, 
and  she  seemed  to  pause,  as  if  to  determine  what  she  should 
say,  but  at  last  she  smiled  slightly,  and  held  out  her  hand. 
**  I  do  not  wonder  you  have  been  successful,  Mr.  Annerly,  you 
can  plead  eloquently,"  she  said,  and  with  that  he  had  to  take 
his  departure. 

Across  the  serenity  of  his  own  contentment  a  streak  of 
really  acute  distress  penetrated  Annerly's  feelings  as  he  walked 
away.  He  had  been  guilty  by  his  own  clumsiness  in  some  way 
of  having  checked  Miss  Vaughan's  impulse  in  Merland's  favour, 
which  must  have  been  the  motive  governing  her  in  sending 
for  him.  It  was  a  beautiful  thought,  evidently,  which  had 
disturbed  her  intention.  She  had  been  for  the  first  time  struck 
with  the  notion  that  the  gift  of  her  love  would  be  a  fatal  gift 
for  her  lover;  that  a  finer  destiny  might  await  him  if  he  were 
not  turned  aside  from  the  opportunity  held  out  to  him  by  the 
Baron.  And  she  had  drawn  back  at  the  very  brink  of  a 
decisive  step,  leaving  him,  Annerly,  quite  powerless  to  restore 
her  to  her  former  state  of  mind, — to  unsay  the  few  words  that 
had  turned  her  aside  from  her  spontaneous  movement.  Was 
he,  who  had  reviled  Merland  for  thinking  of  love  in  preference 
to  the  occult  life,  going  not  only  to  be  a  backslider  himself 
in  face  of  the  supreme  temptation,  but  the  destroyer  of  his 
friend's  happiness  1  Ought  he  to  tell  Merland  all  that  had  passed, 
perhaps  unsettling  his  mind  again  for  no  purpose  1  or  should 
he  be  guilty  of  hiding  from  him  a  state  of  facts  which  Mer- 
land would  perhaps  be  indignant  with  him  for  hiding  if  he 
understood  the  situation  1  It  was  altogether  very  perplexing. 
He  thought  of  writing  quite  frankly  to  Miss  Vaughan,  and 
pleading  for  Merland  in  his  imconscious  absence.  After  all 
she  would  not  be  surprised  to  hear  that  he  knew  what  had 
passed  in  the  conservatory.  As  this  struck  him,  he  wondered 
that  he  had  not  been  more  frank  in  the  conversation  that  had 
just  taken  place.  He  felt  deeply  contrite  and  more  distressed 
than  at  any  moment  since  his  reconciliation  with  Miriam. 

It  would  be  a  relief  to  go  and  talk  the  matter  over  with 
her  that  evening.  Her  bright  woman's  wit  might  perhaps 
suggest  a  way  out  of  the  dilemma.     He  was  too  little  inclined 


A   DOUBLE   DISAPPOINTMENT.  261 

for  casual  conversation  with  acquaintances  to  visit  his  cluh,  so 
he  dined  at  a  restaurant,  and  walked  up  to  Miss  Jameson's,  so 
as  to  put  through  the  time  which  had  to  elapse  before  he  would 
be  expected  there  for  the  evening.  He  would  think  no  more 
of  the  perplexity  about  Miss  Vaughan,  he  decided  during  his 
meal,  till  he  could  talk  it  over  with  Miriam.  She  should  have 
the  credit  of  suggesting  the  course  to  be  taken  to  rescue  bis 
friend  from  the  peril  to  which  his,  Annerly's,  awkwardness  had 
exposed  him.  It  would  all  come  right  in  the  end.  Out  of 
what  an  awful  entanglement  had  Ms  affairs  righted  themselves 
at  last.  Prone  by  his  recent  thinking  to  attribute  more  im 
portance  than  he  used  formerly  to  give  them  to  hidden  influence 
on  the  psychic  plane,  he  began  to  speculate  as  to  how  far  it 
would  be  reconcileable  with  occult  science  if  he  assumed  that 
the  abnormal  intensity  of  his  love  for  Miriam  had  been  an 
efficient  cause  in  bringing  about  the  circumstances  under  which 
she  had  been  restored  to  him.  The  theory  would  not  cover 
all  the  facts ;  but  he  amused  himself  as  he  walked  along  by 
working  it  out  as  far  as  possible,  and  took  pleasure  in  thinking 
how  he  would  set  it  before  Miriam  with  much  fantastic  detail 
in  the  course  of  their  talks  together  that  evening. 

"  Miss  Seaford  at  home  % "  he  muttered  as  a  mere  matter  of 
form  when  the  door  was  opened,  as  he  stepped  into  the  hall. 

"  Oh,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  servant,  "  Miss  Seaford  has 
gone  to  bed  with  a  very  bad  headache,  and  says  would  you 
kindly  excuse  her  to-night  1  *' 

The  check  was  unexpected.  Annerly  had  told  her  that 
afternoon  that  he  would  be  sensible  of  anxiety  sometimes  as  he 
approached  her  door  lest  the  happiness  of  finding  her  ready 
to  receive  him  should  be  too  intense  to  be  real — but  on  this 
occasion  the  notion  of  being  disappointed  of  seeing  her  had 
not  crossed  his  mind.  He  felt  a  great  chill  at  the  heart  as  he 
stood  hesitating  on  the  door-mat. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  she  is  not  well.  It  is  very  sudden." 
The  servant  stood  silent,  and  had  no  further  remark  to  make. 
"  Is  Miss  Jameson  at  home  1 " 

The  girl  seemed  to  hesitate  for  a  moment,  and  then  replied 
with  much  emphasis,  **  No,  sir,  she's  gone  out  for  the  evening." 

There  was  nothing  for  Annerly  to  do  under  the  circumstances 
but  to  go  away. 

"  TeU  Miss  Seaford,  If  you  please,"  he  said,  "  how  greatly 


262  KABMA. 

I  regret  to  hear  she  Is  not  well,  and  that  I  will  call  to  inquire 
after  her  early  to-morrow  afternoon. 

With  that  he  went  away,  and  Susan,  the  maid-servant,  went 
in  to  Miss  Jameson,  who  was  in  a  very  agitated  state  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  reported  the  course  she  had  taken. 

"  I  thought,  most  likely,  you  wouldn't  want  to  see  nohody 
to-night,  m'm,  so  I  told  Mr.  Annerly  you  was  out." 

"  Quite  right,  Susan,"  Miss  Jameson  answered ;  "Tm  rather 
upset,  and  I  do  not  want  to  see  any  one." 

Neither  Miss  Jameson  nor  her  niece  had  heen  confiding  in 
Susan,  but  the  elder  lady  had  not  Miriam's  faculty  of  reserve, 
and  her  agitation  had  been  very  apparent  in  her  little  house- 
hold. 

With  a  sense  of  dejection  and  anxiety  that  he  told  himself 
over  and  over  again  was  exaggerated  and  unjustifiable,  Annerly 
made  his  way  back  to  his  chambers.  The  elasticity  of  spirits 
which  had  made  the  walk  from  town  up  to  the  Regent's  Park  a 
pleasure,  had  given  place  now  to  a  lassitude  which  drove  him 
to  take  refuge  in  a  hansom,  and  the  evening  was  all  before  him 
when  he  lit  his  lamp  and  sat  down  in  his  arm-chair  with  a 
book,  the  perusal  of  which,  for  that  matter,  invited  him  as 
little  as  any  other  occupation  for  the  time  that  he  could  think 
of. 

The  rooms  he  inhabited  were  in  a  large  house  altogether  built 
for  chambers  in  the  Adelphi  region.  His  own  httle  suite  consisted 
simply  of  two  :  and,  as  he  never  took  regular  meals  there, 
except  the  breakfa.st  which  was  brought  to  him,  under  an 
arrangement  with  the  porter,  he  had  no  other  service  available 
than  that  of  the  femme  de  menage^  who  set  his  quarters  to  rights 
every  morning.  His  outer  door  bore  his  name  painted  on  it, 
and  a  little  sliding  panel  to  indicate  whether  the  tenant  was 
"out"  or  "in."  He  left  this  standing  unaltered  at  "out"  as 
he  entered,  not  that  any  visitors  were  likely  to  disturb  his 
solitude,  but  from  a  general  impulse  to  shut  himself  up,  and 
ward  off  the  remotest  chance  of  commonplace  companionship. 


THB   OEISIS   OF   A   LIPS.  263 

CHAPTER  XXIX, 

VHB  CRISIS  OF  A  LIFB. 

There  was  a  letter-box  affixed  to  the  outer  door,  and  he  had 
been  at  home  about  an  hour  or  so,  trying  to  shake  off  the 
depression  he  felt,  arguing  that  sensitiveness  of  this  kind  to  a 
momentary  disappointment  was  idiotic  and  absurd,  but  failing 
to  recover  the  elastic  hopefulness  of  the  last  few  days,  when 
he  heard  a  letter  drop  in.  For  some  time  he  did  not  go  in 
search  of  it.  The  circumstances  were  not  such  as  could  leave 
room  for  any  letter  from  Miriam,  and  correspondence  relating 
to  any  other  matter  could  wait.  He  forgot  that  a  letter  had 
come,  after  a  while.  He  sat  down  and  tried  to  write,  but  the 
effort  was  distasteful  and  unproductive.  Then  he  conceived  the 
notion  of  writing  to  the  Baron  on  the  subject  of  the  interview 
he  had  had  with  Miss  Vaughan.  That  would  perhaps  be  the 
best  thing  to  do  in  that  difficulty,  and  loyalty  to  his  friend 
when  he  addressed  himself  to  this  task  roused  his  energies.  It 
would  be  necessary  to  describe  the  situation  very  fully  to  put 
the  Baron  in  a  position  to  decide  whether  the  statement  should 
be  passed  on  to  Merland  or  not,  so  a  long  letter  was  called  for. 
He  had  been  at  work  on  this  for  some  time,  and  the  later 
hours  of  the  evening  had  already  come  on,  when  there  came  a 
knock  at  his  outer  door.  **  Who  on  earth  can  that  be?"  he 
thought,  conscious  at  the  same  moment  of  a  strange  sensation 
sweeping  all  over  the  surface  of  his  body  as  it  were,  nothing 
that  could  distinctly  be  called  apprehension  or  dread,  but, — 
"  Bah !  what  a  nervous  fool  I  am  to-night,"  he  thought ;  "  whaf's 
the  matter  with  me  1  But  what  do  I  care  who  it  is — I  do  not 
want  to  be  disturbed."  And  then  he  remembered  that  his 
panel  marked  "  out,"  and  that  any  acquaintances  who  might 
have  looked  in  at  his  rooms  in  passing,  on  the  chance  of  find- 
ing him  in,  would  notice  that  and  go  away.  Letters  could  be 
put  in  the  box,  and  parcels  could  be  left  with  the  porter.  He 
turned  to  his  writing  again.  And  then, — the  knock  did  not 
come  again  as  at  first,  but  in  some  way  the  sound  of  the  knock 
seemed  vividly  repeated  in  his  inner  consciousness.  It  suddenly 
reminded  him  of  the  inner  voice  that  had  called  him  upstairt 
on  the  night  when  he  visited  the  Baron  in  the  turret-chamber. 

18 


264  EABMA. 

**  Fm  upset  and  stupid  to-night — I'd  better  go  to  bed,**  he 
thought ;  but  now  he  was  impelled  to  go  and  see  if  there  was 
anybody  outside.  As  he  opened  the  inner  door  he  noticed  the 
letter,  which  had  come  some  hours  previously,  in  the  letter- 
box. He  took  this  out,  though  he  did  not  stop  to  look  at  it 
for  the  moment,  and  then  he  opened  the  door. 

A  very  well-known  friend  stood  outside.  Annerly  started 
with  pleasurable  surprise. 

"  Baron  von  Mondstern  1  ** 

"  An  unexpected  visitor,  of  course,*'  said  the  Baron,  with  his 
gentle,  sympathetic  smile  and  kindly,  mellow  voice  ;  "  but  not 
an  unwelcome  one,  I  trust,  even  at  this  late  hour  1 " 

"  More  welcome  than  any  words  can  tell,"  Annerly  replied 
with  enthusiasm,  as  the  Baron  entered.  He  closed  both  doors 
and  motioned  his  visitor  to  the  easy- chair, 

"  Sit  down  there  and  tell  me  what  good  fortune  has  brought 
you.  It  never  crossed  my  mind  that  you  would  be  leaving 
Heiligenfels  for  the  present." 

Annerly  was  not  disconcerted  by  the  fact  that  the  Baron  had 
not  offered  to  shake  hands.  The  custom  was  one  that  he  had 
often  spoken  of  as  inconvenient  for  any  one  very  sensitive  to 
so-called  "  magnetic  "  influences,  and  his  friends  at  the  castle 
had  long  ceased  to  associate  his  own  peculiar  modes  of  greeting, 
which  did  not  generally  include  the  touch  of  the  hand,  with 
any  want  of  kindly  feeling  or  courtesy  on  his  part. 

Annerly  threw  down  his  letter  on  the  writing-table  without 
looking  at  it,  and  turned  round  his  writing- chair  to  face  his 
visitor. 

"  Do  you  find  the  room  too  hot  t  At  this  time  if  you  are  in 
London,  lamps  in  a  room  soon  make  it  oppressive.  I  will  open 
the  window  a  little  more." 

"  I  do  not  care  which  way  it  is.  I  am  not  very  sensitive  to 
heat  and  cold." 

When  Annerly  turned  back  from  opening  the  window  the 
Baron  had  removed  the  soft  felt  hat  he  wore  on  entering.  The 
lamplight  shone  upon  his  rich  brown  hair  and  beard  and  broad 
clear  forehead ;  and  the  deep-blue  eyes  which  always  caught 
the  attention  of  any  one  who  looked  at  him  seemed  to  Annerly 
to  exhale  a  soothing  influence  of  some  kind  in  a  greater  degree 
even  than  was  usual 

"  Now  let  us  have  a  quiet  talk,"  said  the  Baron ;  "  there  is  a 


THE   CRISIS   OF   A   LIFB.  265 

good  deal  to  be  said  between  us,  for  you  are  coining  to  a  sort  of 
crisis  in  your  life." 

Annerly,  as  he  listened,  felt  that  the  disappointment  of  that 
evening  in  reference  to  Miriam  had  some  association  with  the 
crisis.  The  shadow  of  a  new  separation  from  her  lay  already 
on  his  heart.  The  prospect  of  this  was  not  in  his  mind  yet  as 
a  definite  conception,  but  he  knew  that  the  Baron  had  some- 
thing to  break  to  him.  And  yet  for  the  moment  he  contem- 
plated the  new  menace  with  a  sort  of  unnatural  composure,  as 
if  he  were  looking  on  at  something  happening  to  a  third  person. 

"  It  is  about  Miriam  1 "  he  said. 

"  It  is  about  her,  certainly,  and  other  things  as  welL  You 
know,  already,  that  a  human  life  includes  more  than  the 
physical  facts  occurring  in  one  of  its  objective  manifestations. 
At  the  castle,  since  you  left,  they  have  been  busy  with  the  in- 
vestigation of  this  idea,  as  perhaps  Merland  has  told  you." 

"  Li  some  general  terms  only.  I  have  been  thinking  that, 
perhaps,  they  were  getting  on  to  discoveries  which  were  not 
available  to  be  shared  with  any  one  who,  like  myself,  had  fallen 
back  into  worldly  interests." 

"  None  of  our  friends  at  Heiligenfels  are  deeply  initiated  as 
yet.  Nothing  has  taken  place  that  need  have  been  concealed 
from  you,  but  part  of  it  has  been  withheld  from  altogether 
sympathetic  motives.  They  did  not  want  to  tell  you  about 
your  past  Karma  because  they  thought  it  would  disturb  your 
present  happiness,  but  the  time  has  come  when  it  is  useless  to 
be  reticent  any  longer." 

"  My  Karma  1     Has  that  been  under  examination  1 " 

**  Yes.  If  you  have  not  been  thinking  out  the  problems  of 
Karma  a  great  deal,  you  would  be  surprised  at  the  visions  Mrs. 
Lakesby  has  obtained  of  a  certain  personality  that  has  been 
identified  as  a  previous  objective  manifestation  of  your  own. 
The  author  of  the  Karma  now  governing  your  life — you  your- 
self under  different  conditions — enjoyed  life  but  too  well. 
You  shall  eventually  get  such  details  as  they  have  written 
down,  but  for  the  moment  I  need  only  tell  you,  in  general 
terms,  that  you  were  endowed  with  extraordinary  personal 
advantages  which  hurried  you  into  much  temptation,  that  you 
revelled  in  the  love  of  several  women,  whose  lives  were  thus 
partly  wrecked  through  your  fault,  that  the  circumstances  that 
have  made  the  love  of  woman  a  sorrow  to  you  in  this  incama- 


266  KABMA. 

tion,  rather  than  a  delight  as  formerly,  were  due  to  the  inevit- 
able  reaction  of  the  past. 

Annerly  only  gave  vent  to  a  half-articulate  ejaculation  of 
interest.     The  Baron  went  on, — 

**  Your  friends  thought  that  their  vision  might  have  been  de- 
lusive, because  you  had  just  announced  the  resumption  of  your 
engagement  with  the  woman  you  love,  and  this  seemed  to  dis- 
credit the  past  indication.  They  did  not  foresee  that  Karma 
might  be  so  relentless  as  to  involve  you  in  a  crisis  of  further 
suffering.** 

"In  what  way  am  I  to  lose  her  again  1**  Annerly  asked, 
calmly,  as  if  he  were  in  some  condition  of  psychic  anaesthesia. 
He  knew  that  he  was  under  torture,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  feel 
it  for  the  moment. 

"  I'll  tell  you  directly ;  but  I'll  tell  you  something  else  first. 
The  visions  they  got  from  Mrs.  Lakesby  did  not  quite  cover  all 
the  ground  as  regards  yourself.  They  divined  the  nature  of  the 
bad  Karma  that  has  made  you  suffer,  but  they  had  no  fuU  vi^w 
of  the  good  Karma  of  a  different  kind  which  is  latent  in  your 
nature ;  and  for  the  sake  of  which,  to  be  candid  with  you,  I  am 
drawn  into  such  strong  sympathy  with  you.  For  now  I  may  tell 
you  that  the  passionate  love  you  feel  for  the  lady  you  would  wish 
to  absorb  into  your  life,  is  not  itself  an  emotion  which  claims  my 
sympathy ;  still  less  the  more  prosperous  passions  of  your  pre- 
vious life.  Th6  man  in  you,  who  is  my  friend,  has  but,  as  I 
regard  the  matter,  been  temporarily  obscured  by  the  overgrowth 
of  his  lower  nature  during  the  Roman  incarnation,  and  by  its 
sad  after-growth  in  this.  Mrs.  Lakesby's  vision  did  not  give  your 
friends  the  complete  clue  to  the  comprehension  of  your  character. 
Going  back  to  a  still  earlier  period  they  would  have  found  you 
already  developed  to  a  very  considerable  extent  as  a  student 
and  devotee  of  Nature's  mysteries,  &D.  unselfish  enthusiast  for 
the  cause  of  spiritual  knowledge,  a  lover  of  the  higher  prin- 
ciples in  all  humanity  rather  than  of  the  lower  principles  in  one 
representative  thereof.  That  enthusiasm  is  all  latent  in  your 
nature  stiU,  my  friend ;  the  knowledge  you  once  possessed  will, 
without  very  much  difficulty,  relatively  to  its  magnitude,  be  re- 
coverable; your  consciousness  may  again  be  restored  to  the 
better  self  from  which,  for  a  time,  it  has  been  exiled.** 

"As  usual,"  Annerly  said,  "your  influence  reasserts  itself, 
and  I  feel  another  being  when  I  am  talking  with  you.** 

"It  is  merely  that  I  comprehend  and  can  stimtdate  yoox 


THB   OBISIS   OF   A    LIUB.  267 

latent  higher  nature.  The  loftier  emotions  you  refer  to  are 
from  yourself  as  much  as  the  stormy  passions  that  have  partly 
stifled  them.  At  the  best  I  can  help  you  to  realize  what 
lies  below  the  surface,  and  your  old  Karma  fully  entitles  you  to 
my  help  in  this  respect.  And  now,  what  I  mean  by  the  crisis 
in  your  life  is  this.  You  must  conquer  your  lower  nature  on  the 
plane  of  your  lower  nature,  and  the  final  suffering  which  is  now 
about  to  exhaust  your  lower  Karma  must  be  honestly  met  when, 
so  to  speak,  you  are  broad  awake  in  the  physical  life.  Just 
now  you  are  not  sensitive,  as  it  were,  to  the  love-pangs  you 
have  been  experiencing." 

**  It  seems  to  me  as  if  we  were  talking  about  some  one  else. 
If,  as  I  understand,  I  am  to  lose  Miriam  again,  I  should  have 
thought  I  must  have  gone  mad." 

"  You  are  entitled  not  to  go  mad  this  time.  But  all  the  same 
the  feeling  deadened  in  you  for  a  moment  will  reassert  itself. 
And  now  you  may  read  your  letter." 

"  What  letter  1  This  ? "  turning  to  the  table,  and  taking  up 
the  letter  he  had  brought  in  when  the  Baron  came.  "  Does  this 
bear  on  what  you  are  saying  1 " 

"  You  will  see." 

It  was  from  Professor  Massilton,  and  ran  as  follows  :-^ 

"  My  dbab  Annerly, 

"  I  am  quite  sure  you  are  a  man  of  honour,  and  no  man  of 
honour  would  take  a  mean  advantage  of  a  woman.  So  I  am 
going  to  write  what  less  straightforward  people  would  think  a 
very  strange  letter. 

"  We  are  both  in  love  with  Miriam  Seaford.  I  should  have 
been  married  to  her  before  now  if  I  had  not  been  fettered  by  a 
miserable  marriage,  which  is  no  marriage  really.  But  our  bond, 
under  the  circumstances,  could  only  be  a  loose  one.  Under 
the  impulse  of  certain  impressions  at  the  time,  Miriam  shook  it 
off.  I  had  to  acquiesce,  much  to  my  regret.  If  you  have  ever 
thought  of  me  as  a  seducer  and  a  deserter  you  have  totally  nus- 
onderstood  my  position. 

"  Now  I  am  going  to  be  free  of  my  old  entanglement.  I  am 
thus  enabled  to  offer  Miriam  regular  marriage,  and  have  hastened 
to  do  80. 

**  I  find  she  has  re-engaged  herself  to  you.  But  I  believe  she 
KftB  don*  this  for  your  sake  rather  than  for  fter  own. 

**  Now  a  she  prefers  to  many  you,  with  full  liberty  of  choice 


268  KAHMA. 

in  the  matter,  I,  as  an  honourable  man,  am  ready  to  how  to  her 
decision,  I  am  quite  sure  that  you,  an  equally  honourable  man, 
will  he  quite  ready  to  bow  to  her  decision,  if  it  is  the  other 
way. 

**  For  the  moment  you  hold  her  promise,  and  I  do  not  sup- 
pose that  she  will  break  that  promise,  if  you  hold  her  to  it ;  but 
you  will  not  be  the  man  I  take  you  for  if  you  force  a  woman  to 
marry  you  against  her  inclination,  by  holding  a  promise  given 
under  different  circumstances  in  teirorem  over  her  conscience. 

**  I  have  seen  her  and  have  her  permission  to  put  the  matter 
thus  before  you. 

"  All  I  propose  is — let  her  have  liberty  of  choice.  A  line 
from  you,  saying  that,  as  far  as  you  are  concerned,  she  has  that 
liberty  of  choice,  is  all  I  suggest. 

"  May  the  man  she  loves  best  be  her  husband,  whoever  has 
to  suffer  of  us  two.     Will  you  join  me  in  that  wish  1 

**  Ever  yours  truly, 

"Arthur  Massilton." 

"As  I  said,"  went  on  the  Baron,  when  Annerly  had  finished 
reading  the  letter,  "  you  will  have  to  conquer  your  lower  nature 
on  the  plane  to  which  it  belongs.  The  situation  will  hurt  you 
more  to-morrow  than  it  does  to-night,  when  your  00:1^-1  iousness 
is  partly  on  a  higher  plane  ;  but  you  will  not  forget  the  feelings 
of  the  higher  plane,  and  they  will  help  you  to  get  the  victory. 
And  remember  above  all  this — that  you  need  not  associate  the 
idea  of  humiliation  with  suffering  of  this  kind.  You  need  not 
refer  it  to  any  other  person.  What  you  have  to  go  through  is  the 
last  spasm  of  your  old  Karma  created  by  your  own  act.  And 
now,  I  believe,  your  intuitions  are  so  fully  awakened  that  you 
will  see,  as  clearly  as  I  do,  the  rest  of  what  I  mean." 

"  Yes :  you  mean  that  recognition  of  the  truth  in  this  respect 
closes  the  operation  of  Karma,  and  is  the  escape  from  its 
torment.  As  long  as  the  inevitable  is  resisted  its  effects  are 
aggravated — thrown  into  manifestation." 

"  Just  80.  The  crisis  will  be  past  when  you  can  look  back 
upon  it  in  that  spirit." 

"  But  it  is  inconceivable  that  I  can  bear  to  lose  Miriam  again 
with  this  strange  benumbed  insensibility." 

**  Quite  so ;  the  insensibility  is  merely  temporary,  but  it  may 
help  you  to  realize  that  the  subsequent  pain  will  be  but  tem- 


THE   CRISIS   OP   A   LIFE.  269 

porary.  And  now  again  I  ask  you,  why,  in  the  absence  of 
a  higher  consciousness,  men  cling  to  the  torments  of  their 
Karma  1" 

"  Because  they  fail  to  see  that  the  pain  itself  is  a  function  of 
the  lower  nature.  The  difficulty  will  be  to  realizo,  in  such  a 
case  as  mine,  that  it  is  of  the  lower,  for  love  is  not  of  that." 

"  Selfish  love  is  of  that — above  all  things  it  is  of  that.  Not 
of  the  grossest  animal  nature — I  do  not  mean  that — but  it  is 
acquisitive — exclusive  in  its  operation ;  the  love  that  would 
embrace  its  object.  Unselfish  love  merely  seeks  the  happiness 
of  the  person  loved — not  his  or  her  companionship." 

"  The  only  thing  to  know  is  with  whom  she  will  be 
happiest?" 

"  Ask  her  the  question  fairly,  abide  willingly  by  her  answer, 
and  you  will  have  conquered.  And  now  I  must  be  going.  I 
have  come  but  to  see  you.'* 

The  Baron  as  he  spoke  did  not  rise  to  go,  but  he  fixed  his 
eyes  intently  on  Annerly,  who  then  felt  for  the  first  time  that 
there  was  something  abnormal  about  his  presence. 

"  You  have  learned  enough  in  conversation  with  me  at 
Heiligenfels  not  to  be  too  much  surprised  at  meeting  some  of 
the  queer  experiences  your  occult  studies  have  shown  you  to  be 
possible.  Do  not  fall  into  the  mistake  of  supposing  that  this  is 
not  I  who  have  been  talking  to  you  because  presently  you  will 
be  conscious  of  it  no  longer.  The  real  /  has  been  here,  and  the 
best  token  of  my  presence  will  be  found  in  the  thoughts  with 
which  you  will  be  armed  for  the  strife  of  your  coming  battle. 
The  mere  outward  phantasmagoria  on  the  plane  of  the  physical 
sense  is  wanted  no  more." 

Was  it  a  mist  that  came  over  Annerly's  eyes  as  the  Baron 
spoke,  or  did  the  form  that  he  had  seen  a  corporeal  reality  a 
few  moments  previously,  and  with  whom  he  had  been  oon- 
versing  all  this  time,  undergo  some  change?  It  was  blurred 
and  indistinct  before  him,  though  still  in  the  easy-chair,  where 
the  Baron  had  been  sitting — from  which  he  had  never  moved, 
Annerly  in  his  excitement  leaned  forward,  gazing  at  the  fading 
apparition.  Sitting  as  he  did,  in  his  own  writing- chair  partly 
turned  round,  his  face  came  down  as  he  thus  bent  forward  to 
the  level  of  his  left  arm,  stretched  out  upon  the  table.  A  sense 
of  bewilderment  overcame  him, — a  tumult  of  emotion  that  he 
could  not  interpret     The  easy-chair  was  quite  vacant  now, 

18 


270  KAEMA. 

there  was  no  trace  of  his  visitor  left, — there  was  no  trace  of 
benumbed  insensibility  to  pain  in  his  heart.  His  whole  nature 
seemed  torn  and  throbbing  in  a  passion  of  agony.  His  face 
was  bowed  upon  the  table,  and  his  hand  clutched  an  open 
letter,  and,  man  as  he  was,  his  breast  was  bursting  with  con- 
vulsive sobs. 

"What  does  it  meanf  he  almost  shrieked  aloud,  as  he 
sprang  up  into  an  upright  position. 

But  in  a  silent  and  empty  room  there  was  no  reply. 

**  Miriam,  Miriam  I "  he  moaned  in  despair,  "have  you  driven 
me  mad  1 " 

But  he  remembered  as  he  spoke  that  the  Baron  had  said  he 
was  entitled  not  to  go  mad. 

The  capacity  for  suffering  on  the  plane  of  his  own  personality 
had  fully  come  back  to  him,  but  he  had  lost  no  sentence,  no 
idea  that  had  been  uttered  in  the  conversation  just  passed.  He 
remembered  even  his  own  words.  He  remembered  that  a  little 
while  ago  he  had  been  talking  of  this  letter  and  its  contents 
with  perfect  composure.  He  remembered  that  he  had  said  the 
question  was  with  whom  she  would  be  happiest,  and  again  he 
said  80,  "  That  shall  be  the  only  question ;  but  oh,  my  Miriam, 
oh  God,  if  it  would  suflBice  that  I  might  merely  die  for  you  I" 


CHAPTER  XXX 

anneblt's  ebttjrw. 

About  a  week  later  the  little  party  at  Heiligenfels  were  gathered 
in  the  evening  on  the  terrace  after  dinner,  their  favourite  re- 
sort, except  on  the  rare  occasions  when  cloudy  weather  during 
the  day  made  the  evenings  chilly,  and  Blane  had  been  reading 
aloud  some  chapters  he  had  already  written  of  a  book  he  had  in 
preparation  on  certain  aspects  of  occult  science.  The  anticipa- 
tions Mrs.  Miller  had  been  expressing  as  to  the  great  success 
this  book  ought  to  achieve,  by  reason  of  bringing  rational  ex- 
planations to  bear  upon  some  of  the  more  familiar  though  quite 
uninterpreted  phenomena  of  mesmerism  and  clairvoyance,  had 
been  received  by  the  author  with  gloomy  distrust,  for  he  rarely 


annerly's  eeturn.  271 

took  rose-coloured  view*  of  any  •nterprise  depending  on  hi« 
own  achievements. 

"  I  am  a  raw  student  of  these  subjects,  on  which  I  am  pro- 
fessing to  teach  the  world.  While  I  am  putting  these  pages 
together  I  have  the  Baron  to  refer  to  for  the  elucidation  of 
difficulties,  and  for  the  whole  theory  or  doctrine  on  which  they 
rest.  Where  shall  we  all  be  when  we  cannot  turn  to  him  for 
help  any  longer  ? " 

"  Happy  thought,"  said  Mrs.  Miller :  "  suppose  he  takes  a 
quiet  country-house  near  London,  and  does  not  go  away  out  of 
our  reach  at  all." 

"  If,"said  the  Baron,  "you  were  to  send  a  servant  to  Cologne,  to 
do  some  business  for  you,  would  it  be  a  happy  thought  on  his  part 
if  he  were  to  take  lodgings  over  a  wine-shop,  and  not  come  back  ? " 

"  It  is  not  easy,"  said  Captain  Jem,  "  to  think  of  you  in  the 
light  of  somebody  else's  servant,  but  it  ought  to  be  easy  for  us, 
I  think,  to  look  on  you  as  knowing  best  what  is  the  right  thing 
to  do.  But  then,  ladies  always  know  better  than  the  people 
who  know  best." 

"  Will  somebody  please  hit  the  person  who  spoke  last  1 "  said 
Mrs.  Miller. 

"  Anything  else  to  oblige  you,  Mrs.  Miller,"  said  Merland ; 
"  but  he's  too  big  and  savage." 

"  If  I'm  really  wanted  again,"  said  the  Baron,  "  depend  upon 
it  I  shall  be  sent.  But,  in  truth,  the  work  to  be  done  in  the 
world  as  a  sequel  to  the  beginnings  that  have  been  set  on  foot 
here  must  be  done,  if  at  all,  by  others  and  not  by  me.  All 
healthy  growth  of  the  mind  must  develop  from  within,  and 
the  same  holds  good  of  great  movements  of  thought  in  society 
at  large.  The  penetrating  insight  into  Nature  which  occult 
science  affords  is  not  a  gift  to  be  bestowed  on  great  masses  of 
people  by  external  benevolence.  It  can  only  accrue  to  people 
by  the  cultivation  of  their  faculties,  and  by  attracting  them 
into  the  right  channels  of  thought  and  study.  Now  the  nucleus 
of  ardent  students  which  we  have  constituted  here  is  quite 
large  enough  to  grow,  and  to  provoke  such  a  ferment  of  thought 
in  society  as  may  really  lead  to  great  results,  if  the  time  proves 
to  be  ripe." 

"  I  think  the  time  maybe  ripe,"  Blane  said,  "but  perhaps  not 
the  nucleus  you  speak  of.     At  least,  I  only  speak  for  myself." 

"  I  once  knew  a  man  in  China,"  said  Captain  Miller,  "  who 


272  KAEMA. 

said  he  only  knew  one  word  of  Chinese.  But  he  had  taken  a 
fort  with  it." 

"  Let  us  have  the  details,  Captain  Jem,"  said  the  Baron ;  "  I 
daresay  there  is  a  moral  to  your  story." 

"  The  word  was  *  wailo/  which  means  *  get  out,'  *  go  to  the 
devil ' — a  very  popular  sort  of  word  in  China.  My  friend  had 
heen  taking  a  morning  walk  during  our  campaign  on  the  Peiho, 
and  stumbled  quite  by  accident  on  a  bit  of  a  Chinese  battery, 
open  at  the  back  and  masked  by  trees.  It  would  have  been 
death  to  run,  so  he  jumped  in  among  the  Chinamen  and  sang 
out  *  Wailo ! '  They  thought  there  was  a  regiment  behind  him 
and  bolted  Hke  hares." 

"  But  now  please  interpret  your  parable,  Jem,"  said  Mrs. 
Miller. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Miller,"  said  Blane,  "  I'll  interpret  it  for  you  and 
cry  peccavi  at  the  same  time.  Whatever  you  know,  whatever 
you  can  do,  trust  pluckily  to  it  and  do  the  best  you  can  with 
it.  Of  course  Jem  is  perfectly  right.  I  should  not  have  thought 
*  wailo '  enough  to  say  under  the  circumstances  and  should  have 
let  the  Chinamen  slaughter  me." 

"  Jem  will  be  the  best  captain  of  our  nucleus  after  all,"  said 
Merland. 

"  Say  the  bo'sun,"  suggested  the  hero  of  the  moment. 

"  If  there  was  one  person  still  amongst  us,"  said  Mrs.  Miller, 
"  who  is  among  us  no  longer,  there  would  never  be  much  need 
of  considering  who  should  be  captain." 

"  Meaning  Professor  Massilton,"  said  Blane,  a  little  coldly. 

"  Our  masterful  Consul,"  said  Mrs.  Lakesby. 

"  By-the-bye,"  said  the  Baron,  "  I  got  some  papers  from 
London  to-day  that  I  want  to  show  you  all.  I  brought  them 
down  before  dinner." 

He  went  back  into  the  drawing-room  for  a  moment  and 
returned  with  two  or  three  newspapers. 

"  The  Philistines  have  fallen  on  the  Professor  already  and 
have  been  enjoying  themselves  greatly  at  his  expense." 

The  Baron  then  read  aloud  one  of  the  most  offensive  of  the 
articles  that  had  been  written  on  "  Biology  and  Broomsticks.** 
The  pungency  of  its  sarcasm  was  altogether  at  the  Professor's 
expense.  The  audience  on  the  terrace  was  indignant  and 
Irritated. 

"The  Professor,"  said  the  Baron,  ''is  a  weU-known  man, 


ANNEELl's   RETURN.  278 

with  a  Bcientific  reputation  to  make  a  good  mark  for  scoffers. 
He,  of  course,  must  expect  t-o  bear  the  brunt  of  the  first  gush 
of  contempt  which  ignorance  and  bigotry  pours  out  against 
new  ideas,  whether  they  are  altogether  new,  or  only  very  old 
ones  come  round  again." 

"  How  will  such  a  proud  man  as  the  Professor,"  Mrs.  Lakesby 
suggested,  "  bear  to  be  abused  like  that  ? " 

"  He  bears  it  very  coolly,"  said  the  Baron.  "  I  had  a  letter 
irom  him  about  this  very  article  and  some  others,  in  which  he 
expresses,  indeed,  very  acute  annoyance,  but  not  on  his  own 
account.  I  will  read  you  a  part  of  the  letter " — taking  a  few 
letters  from  his  pocket,  from  which  he  selected  one.  "He 
writes : — *  I  am  chiefly  annoyed  about  all  this  on  account  of  all 
you  people  at  Heiligenfels.  I  hoped  to  have  been  an  element 
of  strength  in  the  work  you  have  in  hand,  and  I  have  merely 
brought  a  shower  of  brickbats  at  your  heads.  It  is  in  that 
reflection  that  lies  the  mortification  for  myself.  Personally,  I 
have  the  hide  of  a  rhinoceros  in  regard  to  aU.  newspaper  attacks. 
These  things  hurt  some  people.  They  simply  do  not  hurt  me 
I  am  not  stoical ;  I  merely  don't  mind.  But  others  may  nd 
be  like  myself,  and  I  fear  especially  that  Blane,  who  is  a  very 
delicate-natured,  sensitive  fellow,  may  suff'er  pain  at  all  this 
ribaldry  in  regard  to  a  cause  to  which  he  is  devoting  himself. 
There  is  simply  no  help  for  it  that  I  can  see.  Meanwhile  I 
only  hope  I  may  serve  as  lightning-conductor  to  attract  all 
this  idiotic  nonsense,  and  convey  it  harmlessly  to  oblivion.' " 

"Well  done,  Professor,"  said  Mrs.  Miller.  "As  for  the 
fool  who  wrote  the  article  you  have  just  read,  I  wish  he  was — " 

**  Able  to  appreciate  his  folly,"  interrupted  the  Baron.  "  We 
will  not  send  out  unholy  wishes  to  breed  in  the  astral  light," 

**  I  am  grateful  to  him,"  said  Blane. 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  mean,  Willy  1 " 

"  He  has  been  the  cause  of  the  writing  of  that  letter  the 
Baron  has  just  read.  After  all,  it  may  be  the  Professor  who 
will  suffer  from  co-operation  with  us,  more  than  our  cause  from 
association  with  him." 

"I  am  glad  you  take  that  view  of  it,"  said  the  Baron, 
"  because  in  the  long-run  I  think  that  will  be  the  case.  Of 
course,  the  Professor  would  be  still  more  useful  to  the  cause  of 
truth  than  he  is  likely  to  be,  even  if  he  were  perfect  in  all 
respects ;  but  for  any  man  who  can  do  good  service  I  do  not 

f 


274  KABMA. 

think  we  should  hold  aloof  merely  because  he  can't  do  better. 
After  all,  what  we  want  to  recommend  to  the  world  are  certain 
ideas — not  certain  men.  It  may  be  a  good  thing  that  people 
should  see  that,  if  these  are  true,  it  does  not  in  the  least  matter 
who  utters  them." 

"What  are  you  making  a  point  at,  Mrs.  Lakesbyl"  asked 
Merland.     '*  TVliat  do  you  see  1 " 

All  of  them  were  used  to  the  little  signs  of  manner,  the 
peculiar  fixed  look  in  the  eyes,  that  betokened  the  perception 
of  some  appearance  invisible  to  the  rest  by  the  clairvoyante. 

"Nothing,"  she  said.  "I've  got  a  feeling.  Who  is  there 
coming  here,  Baron  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Are  your  nerves  sensitive  to  an  approaching  presence  1  I 
should  not  be  surprised  if  we  had  a  visitor  this  evening — or 
rather  a  returning  friend." 

"  Annerly,"  she  said.  "  He*B  coming  up  the  road  to  the 
castle." 

There  were  exclamations  of  surprise  and  interest — not  so 
much  due  to  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Lakesby  had  scented  his 
approach  by  means  of  her  strange  extra  senses — for  the  guests 
at  the  castle  had  long  grown  used  to  taking  abnormal  manifesta- 
tions of  one  kind  and  another  very  coolly — as  at  the  return 
itself  of  their  absent  friend.  In  a  general  way  the  Baron  had 
made  them  acquainted  with  the  course  of  events,  communicated 
to  him,  as  they  presumed,  by  letters  from  the  person  concerned. 
They  knew  that  the  engagement  Annerly  had  formed  had  been 
broken  of^  that  its  rupture  had  involved  some  act  of  heroism  on 
his  part,  and  that  the  circumstances  were  altogether  of  a  painful 
nature,  so  that  it  would  be  better  to  make  no  reference  to  the 
incident  whenever  they  should  see  him  again. 

"I  suppose,"  Mrs.  Miller  said,  "that  he  will  take  up  the 
occult  life  altogether  now  ? " 

"  Probably,"  said  the  Baron ;  "  and  I  may  as  well  add  that, 
while  I  believe  Mrs.  Lakesby's  vision  of  a  previous  incarnation 
he  has  been  through,  to  have  been  quite  trustworthy,  Annerly's 
natural  aflfinities  for  occult  study  seem  to  me  to  point  to  some 
other  probably  stiU  earlier  incarnation  in  which  he  had  already 
advanced  a  great  way  on  the  path.  Unhappily  it  is  easy  to  slip 
back  at  any  time  before  the  further  shore  of  real  knowledge  is 
attained." 

"  I'm  heartily  glad  we  are  to  have  Annerly  with  iu  again," 


▲nneblt's  betubn.  275 

his  friend  Merland  gaid.  **  He  tnd  I  have  been  so  much  to- 
gether, and  I  know  him  so  well,  that  of  course  I  ara  very 
much  attached  to  him,  but  I  think  you  all  took  a  liking  to  him 
in  spite  of  his  shy  ways.'* 

This  was  very  warmly  confirmed.  But  the  Baron  intimated 
that  Annerly  would  not  stay  at  the  castle  this  time. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  think  me  too  mysterious,  but  Anneriy 
will  be  going  to-morrow  on  a  journey  I  have  ventured  to  sug- 
gest to  him.  He  merely  stays  with  us  for  one  night.  If  you 
like,  Meriand,  you  could  come  with  us  in  the  morning,  for  I 
mean  to  go  with  him  part  of  the  way." 

The  programme  thus  arranged,  indicated  so  plainly  that 
Annerly  had  taken,  or  was  taking,  some  decisive  step  in  the 
direction  of  devoting  himself  to  the  great  pursuit,  that  his 
arrival  shortly  afterwards  was  invested  with  even  keener 
interest  than  it  would  have  excited  otherwise.  Old  Franz  came 
in  person  to  announce  to  the  Baron  that  Mr.  Annerly  had 
reached  the  castle,  and  had  gone  into  the  library. 

"  Ask  him  to  join  us  here,"  said  the  Baron,  and  then  Merland 
and  Mrs.  Miller  went  into  the  drawing-room  to  meet  him.  In 
this  way  they  saw  him  first  in  the  fully-lighted  room,  and  were 
both  startled  by  a  strange  and  undefinable  change  that  seemed 
to  have  come  over  his  face  in  the  short  time  he  had  been 
absent  He  was  aged  in  some  way,  and  at  the  same  time  his 
manner  had  more  confidence  and  dignity  than  it  had  been 
marked  by  formerly.  He  gieeted  his  friends  cheerfully,  and 
Merland  with  great  warmth  of  feeling,  but  he  did  not  pretend 
to  any  gaiety  of  manner.  On  the  other  hand  he  betrayed  no 
nervous  embarrassment,  though  the  situation — as  tliey  all  knew 
that  his  adventures,  while  away,  had  been  of  a  very  stirring 
character — might  have  been  a  little  awkward. 

"Why  didn't  you  come  in  time  for  dinner!"  Mrs.  Miller 
asked. 

"  I  had  many  preparations  to  make  before  leaving  London. 
I  have  come  very  early,  really,  rather  than  very  late,  for  if  I 
had  not  travelled  straight  through  I  should  have  only  reached 
here  to-morrow." 

"  Then  you  did  not  sleep  at  Cologne  t " 

•*No." 

There  were  farther  inquiries  as  to  whether  he  had  dined, 
and  so  forth,   but  he  wanted    nothing,  and   merely  dropped 

T  2 


276  KASHA. 

into  a  yacant  cliaii  on  the  terrace  as  if  he  had  n«Tei  been 
away. 

Tlie  Baron  had  not  told  the  circle  at  the  castle  of  any  circnm- 
stances  which  connected  Annerly's  affairs  with  those  of  the 
other  absentee ;  so  Mrs.  Miller  asked  presently,  without  being 
at  all  aware  that  she  was  treading  on  delicate  ground,  wh&ther 
Annerly  had  seen  the  Professor  in  London. 

"  Yes,"  Annerly  answered  with  composure,  "  only  a  day  or 
two  before  I  left." 

"How  does  he  take  the  infamous  articles  that  are  being 
written  about  him  in  the  papers  1 " 

"Very  coolly,  I  think.  He's  a  very  strong  man — the  Professor. 
Besides,  his  private  affairs  engage  his  attention  very  closely 
just  now.'* 

There  was  a  good  deal  more  talk  on  this  subject  and  on  the 
probable  authorship  of  the  stories  that  had  been  put  in  circu- 
lation. Mra  Miller  had  not  at  first  realized  where  the  respon- 
sibility for  this  almost  certainly  might  be  placed. 

"  How  wicked  and  treacherous  of  him  I  "  she  cried,  referring 
to  Sir  John  Hexton. 

"  When  a  piece  of  mischief  is  done,"  said  the  Baron,  "  it  is 
no  consequence,  except  to  himself,  who  has  done  it.  A  world 
that  does  not  realize  the  operation  of  Karma  is  needlessly 
alarmed  lest  evil-doers  will  not  be  punished.  Nobody  can 
punish  them  so  certainly  as  they  do  that  for  themselves." 

"After  they're  dead^  "Well,  I  daresay  you're  right  in 
theory,  but  I  think  it's  a  pity  some  people  should  have  to 
wait." 

"  The  greatest  pity  for  them,"  said  Annerly.  "  It  is  better 
to  get  disagreeable  things  over  at  once." 

"And  then,  thousands  of  years  hence,  when  Sir  John 
Hexton  may  be  doing  penance  for  his  sins  in  some  other 
incarnation,  I  shan't  be  tiiere  to  look  on  and  say  serve  him 
right." 

"Let  ns  hope,''  said  the  Baron,  **you  will  be  better 
employed." 

"  — in  doing  penance  for  your  own,"  added  Captain  Jem, 
pensively. 

The  conversation  amongst  the  group  at  large  kept,  in  this 
way,  to  the  surface  of  things.  It  was  not  till  Annerly  and 
Merland  were  alone  together   in    Annerly's  room,  when  the 


ANK£BL¥'8   BETUBN.  277 

general  separation  for  the  night  had  taken  place,  that  any  inti- 
mate explanations  were  given  by  Annerly  concerning  ths  past 
few  days. 

•'  I've  gone  through  a  great  deal  of  experience  since  I  saw 
you  last,  Claude,  and  it  seems  to  me  as  if  a  great  period  of  life 
rather  than  a  few  weeks  had  passed  in  the  interim." 

"  Tell  me  as  much  as  you  can,  old  man,  and  no  more  than 
you  like.     I  am  sure  you  have  had  a  frightful  time." 

"  It  is  all  in  the  day's  work,  I  have  been  through  a  greqj^' 
crisis — a  great  operation  in  psychic  surgery,  and  I  am  all  thT 
better  for  it,  but  a  good  deal  sobered.  I  could  laugh  when  2 
look  back  to  the  last  time  I  was  in  this  room,  and  imagined! 
myself  ready  to  enter  on  the  occult  life.  I  think  I  am  readjT 
now — to  begin — but  I  am  an  entirely  changed  man.  And  that 
is  the  important  thing  to  explain  to  you,  Claude.  The  outer 
facts  are  not  of  so  much  importance.  You  know  I  met  with 
Miriam  Seaford  again  and  got  our  old  engagement  renewed,  i 
knew,  in  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  all  the  while,  that  she  had 
taken  pity  on  me  rather  than  anything  else,  but  I  was  willing 
to  get  possession  of  her  on  those  terms  rather  than  on  none. 
And  that  was  the  key  to  the  understanding  of  the  old  nature, 
which  I  think  I  have  dropped.  I  was  very  truly  in  love,  but  I 
had  not  mastered  the  AB.C.  of  unselfishness  in  love." 

**  Good  Heavens,  Annerly,  why  you  would  have  had  yourself 
skinned  for  her  at  any  time." 

"  Perhaps  so,  but  I  would  not  have  willingly  surrendered 
her  to  another  man  that  she  might  be  happier  with  him  than 
she  could  be  with  me.  The  intense  agony  I  used  to  experience 
in  longing  for  her  was  all  pure  selfishness.  It  was  not  that  I 
thought  she  was  unhappy,  I  merely  was  so  myself ;  and  the 
contemplation  of  that  fact  made  me  miserable.  I  had  got  my 
consciousness  in  fact  altogether  seated  in  my  own  personality, 
— to  put  the  thing  in  occult  language.  I  was  living  in  the 
lower  principles  of  my  nature,  quite  oblivious  of  the  higher. 
Now  under  help  and  guidance  I  have  succeeded  in  making  the 
transfer.  The  wrench  was  something  quite  extraordinary.  I 
have  been  in  distress  of  mind  before,  but  I  never  went  through 
any  pain  to  compai-e  with  that  I  was  immersed  in  this  time 
last  week,  and  for  a  day  or  two  longer." 

"  But  how  did  the  break-off  happen  then— if  you  can  bear  to 
speak  of  it  ?  " 


278  KABMA. 

*'  It  WM  Massilton  she  really  wanted  to  marry, — our  Profes- 
sor. When  I  found  this  out  the  crisis  began.  When  I  was 
able  to  write  and  tell  her  that  she  was  quite  free  83  far  as  pro- 
mises to  me  were  concerned — it  was  determined  as  to  its  nature. 
When  I  could  go  to  her,  as  I  did  before  I  left  London,  and 
bid  her  good-bye,  composedly,  as  a  friend  not  as  a  lover  at  all 
— it  was  over.  She  was  the  only  person  who  showed  emotion 
at  our  parting." 

**  But  what  was  this  more  than  a  final  culmination  of  the 
unselfishness  which  you  have  always  shown  in  this  matter,  as 
it  seems  to  me  t  " 

"  I  should  either  have  not  acted  as  I  did — or  I  should  have 
unsettled  my  reason  in  doing  so— if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
Baron's  psychic  influence.  That  is  just  as  plain  to  me  now 
as  if  it  had  held  me  up  from  falling  over  a  precipice.  The 
first  evening  he  came  to  me — " 

*'  How  do  you  mean  came  to  you  t  He  has  never  been  away 
from  here." 

"  Never  mind  the  mere  occult  science  of  the  matter.  The 
real  man  visited  me  if  in  a  phantom  body,  and  was  as 
real  to  me,  while  with  me,  as  if  he  had  come  over  by  train 
and  steamboat.  When  I  realize  what  occultism  is  as  regards 
the  training  of  the  soul,  the  outer  machinery  of  its  working 
on  the  physical  plane  seems  of  no  importance.  The  Baron 
came  to  me  first  this  night  last  week,  and  he  opened  my 
eyes  just  before  the  crisis  came  on  to  the  possibility  of  con- 
sciousness on  the  higher  plane,  from  which  the  cravings  of 
the  lower  do  not  seem  to  be  of  such  omnipotent  supremacy 
as  they  do  on  that  level.  Nothing  he  did  saved  me  from  one 
inevitable  pang  of  suffering,  but  through  this  all  I  realized  that 
it  was  right  to  suffer ;  that  through  embracing  that  suffering  it 
could  be  annihilated,  conquered,  and  put  away  in  the  back- 
ground." 

"  But  have  you  conquered  it  t  Are  you  really  through  with 
it,  and  contented  with  the  prospect  before  you  t " 

"I  would  not  stoop  now  to  examine  into  the  matter.  Do  I 
suffer  1  Do  I  not  suffer  1  What  does  it  matter  t  That  is  not 
the  thing  to  live  for  either  way.  The  life  I  am  passing  through 
is  worthless,  unless  I  make  it  of  supreme  value  by  realizing 
its  worthlessness.  I  am,  I  hope,  on  the  road  to  do  that.  To 
wish  to  escape  from  suffering,  and  be  peaceful,  content,  happy, 


annbblt's  return.  279 

is  still  to  be  living  in  the  lower  plane  of  personality.  The 
higher  self  within  me  and  that  within  you — far  closer  together 
than  we  realize  while  walled  off  from  each  other  in  these 
physical  bodies — cannot  suffer ;  at  all  events,  not  in  the  way  we 
are  talking  ot  To  live  up  into  that  higher  self  is  to  achieve  the 
transfer  of  consciousness  I  speak  of.  I  know  that  sort  of  lan- 
guage is  misty  and  comfortless,  but  I  am  sure  you  will  catch 
my  meaning." 

"  I  realize  your  meaning  quite  fully.  It  seems  to  me,  in  my 
small  way,  I  have  gone  through  the  change  you  speak  of.  I 
have  no  thought  now  of  going  back  into  any  other  life  than 
this.     Sooner  or  later  the  Baron — " 

"  My  dear  Claude,  your  Karma  and  mine,  as  you  know,  are 
two  very  different  forces.  One  cloudy  day  does  not  spoil  a 
summer,  just  as  one  delusive  gleam  of  sunshine  does  not  make 
a  fine  season.  No  two  people  have  to  achieve  their  purification 
in  the  same  way.  For  some  it  may  come  through  happi- 
ness and  for  others  through  suffering.  Don't  suppose  that 
you  must  work  out  your  redemption  by  the  same  means  I  have 
had  to  employ.  I  am  no  prophet ;  but  still  I  say  that  our  paths 
in  life,  even  if  they  both  tend  upwards  towards  an  elevation 
of  consciousness  unto  that  higher  level  of  which  I  spoke,  may  lie 
through  a  very  different  sort  of  country." 

"  Why  are  you  talking  in  such  enigmas  1 " 

"Because  I  have  no  knowledge  which  enables  me  to  talk  in 
any  other  way.  But  take  no  hasty  resolutions  of  any  kind  for 
the  present.  Wait  and  see  what  happens — and  now  about 
to-morrow." 

Annerly  had  already  settled  with  the  Baron  the  time  at  which 
they  should  start,  which  was  to  be  early  in  the  morning.  He 
arranged  the  time  at  which  Merland  should  join  them,  and  then 
their  talk  drifted  back  to  details  of  what  had  transpired  since 
they  parted.  Merland  filled  up  all  the  blanks  of  the  informa- 
tion he  had  sent  his  friend  by  letter  concerning  the  clairvoyant 
visions,  and  learned  the  full  particulars  of  all  that  concerned 
the  complication  of  Annerly's  affairs  with  those  of  the  Pro- 
fessor. 

"  Outside  the  infraction  of  certain  moral  laws — growing  rather 
perhaps  out  of  our  marriage  institutions,  than  having  themselves 
an  absolute  existence — there  has  been  nothing  to  blame  in  their 
conduct.     The  Professor  never  meant  to  b«  unfaithful  to  his 


280  CASICA. 

engagements.  The  union  between  them  was  a  genuine  mar- 
riage in  all  but  the  name.  But  it  is  next  to  impossible  to 
comment  on  other  people's  csonduct.  Except  in  glaring  cases 
one  should  never  try.  The  real  hidden  motives  are  undiscernible 
nearly  always." 


CHAPTER  XXXL 

IN  THB  GONSBRVATOBT  AQAIS, 

Next  morning  the  Baron  and  his  two  companions  walked  down 
the  hill  together,  crossed  the  river  in  a  small  boat,  and  mingled 
with  the  little  crowd  of  pleasure-seeking  tourists  on  the  steam- 
boat pier  at  Schlessig.  There  they  got  one  of  the  boats 
going  up  the  Rhine,  and  went  up  a  few  stations  to  a  place  at 
which  Annerly  was  going  to  take  the  train.  Nothing  had 
been  said  as  to  his  destination,  and  Merland  felt  that  it  would 
be  indiscreet  to  ask  any  questions. 

They  all  had  a  frugal  breakfast  together  at  a  riverside  hotel, 
and  then  went  to  the  station  to  see  Annerly  off.  The  talk 
during  the  whole  of  this  time  had  been  on  abstract  subjects. 
It  was  only  as  they  stood  together  in  the  railway  waiting-room, 
Annerly  having  got  his  ticket  for  some  unknown  place  in  his 
pocket,  that  Merland  realized,  with  a  blank,  rather  forlorn 
feeling,  that  he  was  losing  his  friend  for  a  very  indefinite 
period. 

**  It's  hard  to  part  with  you,  Geordie,  in  this  final  sort  of  way. 
We've  been  together,  off  and  on,  for  a  long  while." 

Annerly  looked  at  the  Baron,  and  the  Baron  at  him,  both 
with  grave  understanding  in  the  eyes.  Already  there  were 
common  thoughts  quick  to  arise  between  them,  which  no  third 
person  could  readily  follow.  Then,  after  a  little  hesitation,  and 
grasping  Merland's  hand,  his  friend  said  gently, — 

**  It  won't  be  for  long,  Claude,  in  any  case,  and  you  shall 
certainly  hear  from  me." 

Merland  felt  the  separation  all  the  more  for  these  few  words, 
but  nothing  further  was  said  on  either  side  to  show  emotion. 
The  noisy  glass  doors  on  to  the  platform  were  opened,  the  train 
announced,  and,  with  a  simple  "  Good-bye,"  Annerly  went  on 


IN  THE  CONSERVATORY  AGAIN.       281 

with  the  other  passengers,  while  Merland  and  the  Baron  strolled 
away  back  to  the  river. 

"  There  goes  Annerly,"  said  Merland,  as  they  caught  sight  of 
the  train  speeding  on  its  way,  at  a  turn  of  the  road,  "  shooting 
away  into  a  new  life.  Dear  old  boy  1  I  hope  it  will  be  a 
brighter  one  for  him,  and  a  better  than  the  one  he  is  leaving. 
That  has  been  a  rough  time  on  the  whole." 

"  It  has  been  a  period  of  purification  fop  him,  of  keen  suffer- 
ing through  the  effect  of  old  Karma,  compressed  into  narrow 
limits ;  but  the  progeny  of  the  Flaccus  they  have  told  you  of, 
have  ceased  to  exist.  The  Annerly  from  whom  you  have  just 
parted  is  the  successor  of  a  nobler  and  earlier  self  than  that. 
If  possible,  I  will  procure  a  vision  for  our  seeress  which  shall 
show  you  the  earlier  self  of  which  I  speak ;  but  now  I  want  to 
talk  to  you  of  another  topic." 

Merland  felt  that  the  motive  with  which  the  Baron  had 
desired  his  company  that  morning  was  now  to  be  made  manifest, 
for  hitherto  there  had  been  nothing  that  had  passed,  while  the 
three  had  been  together,  which  explained  the  purpose  of  their 
expedition. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  for  a  little,  about  yourself,  for  I  know 
that  you  have  not  been  without  aspirations,  which  prompted 
you  to  court  the  trials  which  Annerly  is  about  to  confront. 
You,  too,  have  felt  the  attraction  towards  the  higher  spiritual 
life  that  you  vaguely  appreciate,  and  one  glimpse  of  which 
indeed,  if  I  mistake  not,  you  even  enjoyed.     Is  not  that  so  1  " 

"  Certainly  it  is  so,"  Merland  answered,  confidently.  "  The 
glimpse  you  speak  of  came  to  me  at  a  moment  of  painful  excite- 
ment, when  I  did  not  appreciate  it  as  fully  as  I  should  now.  I 
am  more  than  ready  to  follow  your  lead  into  the  pursuits  in 
which  you  have  conquered  your  own — if  I  may  put  it  that 
way  without  disguise — ^your  own  exaltation  above  ordinary 
men." 

"  You  are  ready  to  give  up  hopes  of  ordinary  earthly  happi- 
ness for  the  chance  of  attaining,  across  much  trial  and  suffering, 
the  opportunity  of  benefiting  your  fellow-creatures  on  a  higher 
plane  of  activity  than  that  to  which  you  properly  belong." 

"  I  don't  want  to  put  the  matter  in  any  way  which  seems  to 
make  out  my  aspirations  nobler  than  they  are.  I  do  not  at 
present  understand  how  I  should  benefit  anybody  else  by  leading 
what  we  have  come  to  call  the  occult  life — by  earning,  if  possible, 


282  EABMA. 

exceptional  knowledge  and  acquiring  abnormal  power.  But  I 
have  got  a  clearly  defined  feeling  that  that  is  the  best  sort  of  life 
to  lead,  anyhow,  and  I  wish  to  lead  it.  If  it  brings  about 
opportunities  of  doing  good  to  others  I  shall  be  very  glad." 

"  You  see,"  the  Baron  said,  "  that  the  situation  is  this :  we 
must  do  everything  of  this  sort  with  our  eyes  open.  Suppose 
I  could  give  you  reason  to  believe  that  you  are  not  driven  into 
the  occult  life  by  the  stress  of  any  disappointment  in  this  one 
really, — that  the  dearest  desires  you  have  formed  in  your  heart 
might  after  all  be  realized,  provided  you  made  efforts  to  accom- 
plish them, — while,  on  the  other  hand,  if  you  forbore  from 
doing  that,  that  you  might  throw  yourself  into  a  career  that 
might  lead  to  a  rapid  evolution  of  your  higher  spiritual  nature, 
but  would  certainly  for  the  time  being  be  one  of  self-denial  and 
painful  effort, —  what  choice  would  you  make?" 

Merland  made  no  immediate  reply  because  the  Baron's  language 
seemed  so  suggestive  that  the  alternatives  he  set  forth  were  not 
of  a  kind  to  be  hastily  dealt  with. 

"  That  is  a  complicated  idea,"  he  said.     "  Because — " 

He  found  it  difficult  to  state  the  case  in  an  abstract  form,  but 
still  shrank  from  changing  the  tone  of  the  conversation. 

"  Well,  the  thing  strikes  me  this  way.  If  I  myself  am  really 
the  only  person  to  be  considered,  I  would  rather  constitute  my- 
self your  pupil,  if  that  is  possible,  than  attempt  to  recover  any 
sort  of  happiness  of  the  kind  I  was  aiming  at  before  I  under- 
stood your  position,  so  far  as  I  do,  which  is  not  much. 
But—" 

"  You  are  quite  right  to  hesitate  in  the  way  you  do.  Our 
lives  are  rarely  quite  isolated  from  those  of  other  human  beings 
on  our  own  plane.  But  I  do  not  want  to  talk  in  enigmas.  The 
case  seems  to  me  one  in  which  you  are  not  really  entitled  to 
put  aside  the  duties  of  the  plane  in  life  to  which  you  belong  till 
you  are  quite  sure  that  they  do  not  link  you  with  it  decisively. 
Annerly  had  no  such  duties.  On  the  contrary,  the  renunciation 
of  the  ties  which  chiefly  bound  him  to  the  world  had  itself 
become  the  highest  and  only  duty  he  owed  the  world.  And  I 
will  tell  you  more  :  your  Karma  does  not  claim  that  you  should 
quench  your  alliance  with  the  world  in  suffering.  Just  as  it 
would  be  very  wrong  of  me  to  try  and  beguile  any  unqualified 
neophyte  into  the  toilsome  path  of  occult  progress  by  holding  a 
glittering  bait  before  him,  so  it  would  be  wrong  for  me  to 


IN  THE    OONSBBVATOBY    AGAIN.  283 

dis^suade  you  from  attempting  whatever  your  ttrength  may 
enable  you  to  strive  for.  But  I  want  you  to  realize  that,  as  long 
as  a  smooth  path  leads  up-hUl  the  way  you  are  going,  no  one 
is  bound  to  get  off  it  to  walk  in  the  stones  and  ruts  at  the 
side." 

Still,  without  direct  reference  to  the  character  of  the  worldly 
happiness  Merland  had  been  aiming  at  during  the  earlier  part 
of  his  visit  to  the  castle,  the  conversation  went  on  interspersed 
with  digressions  on  the  general  principles  involved.  They  took 
a  steamboat  back  to  Schlessig,  and  recrossing  the  river  strolled 
slowly  up  the  hill.  The  Baron  gave  Merland  gently  to  under- 
stand, that,  while  on  the  one  hand  his  worldly  Karma  had 
certainly  been  of  a  kind  which  need  not  have  entailed  upon  him 
any  acute  distress,  he  was  also  without  the  peculiar  advantages 
arising  from  great  spiritual  progress  accomplished  in  a  former 
life  which  had  asserted  themselves  powerfully  in  Annerly's  case 
after  the  exhaustion  of  the  influences  bequeathed  to  his  present 
life  by  the  Roman  incarnation  of  which  they  had  heard  some- 
thing. 

*•  All  I  would  have  you  realize,"  the  Baron  said,  "  since  a 
false  analogy  might  otherwise  have  confused  your  judgment,  is, 
that  the  circumstances  under  which  it  became  a  noble  and 
heroic  thing  on  Annerly's  part  to  surrender  his  claims  on  the 
woman  he  loved  so  earnestly,  have  nothing  to  do  in  your  case 
with  a  question  you  once  asked — without  getting  an  immediate 
answer." 

"  Baron,"  said  Merland,  not  without  agitation  of  feeling,  "  do 
you  know  something  more  about  this  matter  than  you  have  yet 
told  me  t  I  have  seen  through  the  blind  conceit  which  made 
me  put  that  very  inappropriate  question,  and  have  long  since 
submitted  to  the  justice  of  the  arrangement  which  kept  back 
from  me  anything  so  unnecessary  as  an  answer." 

**  My  friend,  it  would  be  contrary  to  my  habits  and  rather 
taking  me  out  of  my  proper  sphere  if  I  played  the  part  of  love's 
messenger.  And  I  have  no  message  for  you  from  Miss  Vaughan 
— if  you  mean  that ;  but  I  have  got  something  to  tell  you 
about  her.  She  and  her  mother  are  returning  for  a  while  to  the 
castle." 

»*  Coming  back  here  I  ** 

"  Even  so,  and  very  shortly.  They  have  been  good  enough 
to  feel  a  strong  desire  to  see  a  little  more  of  me  before  I  go 


284  KABMA. 

away  for  what  may  be  a  long  absence,  and  they  only  realized 
lately  that  I  should  not  be  able  to  return  after  this  autumn  to 
London  ;  so,  instead  of  going  to  their  own  house  in  Devonshire, 
they  have  decided  once  more  to  honour  Heiligenfela." 

"Baron,"  said  Merland,  some  time  after  this  as  they  ap- 
proached the  castle,  "it  is  natural,  very  natural,  that  they  should 
want  to  see  you  again,  but  after  what  has  passed — except  on 
one  very  extravagant  supposition — it  would  be  pleasanter  for 
them  both,  perhaps,  that  they  should  not  find  me  here.  It 
may  be,  indeed,  that  they  imagine  I  have  already  gone." 

"  It  is  a  delicate  and  nice  feeling  on  your  part  that  suggests 
what  you  propose ;  but  Mrs.  Vanghan  made  no  terms  in 
arranging  to  come  back,  and  I  do  not  think  you  are  called  upon 
to  shrink  from  meeting  them.  If  you  would  rather  indeed 
know  how  you  stand  in  the  graces  of  the  lady  you  are  most 
concerned  with — " 

The  Baron  hesitated  as  he  spoke,  and  they  came  in  under  the 
outer  archway  leading  into  the  first  courtyard — the  courtyard 
in  the  middle  of  which  were  flower-beds,  and  from  the  battle- 
mented  terrace  of  which  there  opened  the  door  leading  into  the 
conservatory.  Standing  at  this  door  they  saw  Captain  Miller  in 
his  favourite  morning-coat  of  brown  velvet.  It  was  a  little  past 
lunch-time. 

"  If  in  point  of  fact,"  said  the  Baron,  as  he  greeted  the  Cap- 
tain with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  and  as  they  walked  round  the 
terrace  to  join  him,  "  if  you  want  at  once  to  get  an  answer  to 
the  question  which  still  awaits  its  reply — go  in  and  ask  for  it." 

He  put  his  hand  on  Merland's  shoulder  as  he  spoke,  turning 
him  round  towards  the  conservatory  door,  and  then,  slipping 
his  arm  into  Captain  Jem's,  W£dked  on,  leaving  the  young  man 
alone. 

•'  Go  in  and  ask  for  it." 

With  expectations  raised  to  fever  heat,  and  yet  with  a  feeling 
that  the  glorious  possibility  was  mpossible,  Merland  entered. 
Standing  by  the  same  open  window  where  he  had  seen  her  last, 
alone,  and  in  the  same  grey  dress  she  had  worn  that  morning, 
above  which  glowed  in  her  cheeks,  as  it  were,  the  same  magni- 
ficent flush,  which  the  first  surprise  of  his  audacity  had  called 
forth,  the  beautiful  Miss  Vaughan  was  there  before  him.  Had 
he  met  her  again  under  any  other  circumstance  his  greeting 
would  have  been  one  of  respectful  reserve ;  but  hei  look,  her 


IN  THE  OONSEBVATORT  AGAIN.       285 

■mae — a  little  shy  and  confused ;  the  overwhelming  significance 
of  the  whole  situation,  evoked  an  emotion  in  her  lover's  heart 
which  swept  away  all  thought  of  playing  a  part 

"  Lucy,"  he  cried  in  wild  delight,  springing  forward ;  and, 
with  passionate  adoration  seizing  her  hand,  he  knelt  once  more 
to  kiss  it. 

"  I  have  heen  slow  in  giving  you  an  answer,"  she  said ;  "  but 
you  know  you  took  me  by  surprise.  You  offered  me  a  flower, 
if  I  remember  rightly." 

He  could  never  tell  how  it  got  there,  but  as  she  spoke  he  felt 
that  something  was  slipped  into  his  hand.  In  that  castle  of 
enchantment  it  was  relatively  a  little  thing  to  happen,  but,  by 
some  wonderful  play  of  the  forces  that  were  all  around  them 
there,  a  sprig  of  stephanotis  had  settled  between  his  fingers. 

"  It  is  here  I "  he  cried  in  astonishment,  and  Lucy  took  it. 

For  a  little  while  the  meaning  of  its  acceptance  blotted  out 
between  them  all  thought  even  of  occult  wonders. 

*'  But  did  you  know  I  was  here  t  Did  you  come  provided 
with  that  flower  1 "  asked  Lucy. 

"  No.  Not  tiU  I  saw  the  glorious  sight  of  you  did  I  know 
you  were  here." 

"  Look  I  There  is  a  little  curl  of  paper  round  it  See,  there 
is  writing  on  it," 

They  examined  the  morsel  of  paper,  and  the  words  it  bore 
were  :  "  With  a  friend's  blessing  on  the  betrothal" 

"  Oh  Lucy !  How  is  it  possible  you  can  have  granted  me 
the  stupendous  gift  which  aU  this  signifies  ?  When  I  made  my 
desperate  declaration  I  was  simply  blind  to  everything  else  but 
my  overwhelming  love  and  your  supreme  loveliness.  I  only 
learned  later  how  monstrously  unbefitting  it  was  for  me  to  speak 
to  you  in  this  way." 

"  I  have  often  been  made  love  to,  Claude,  but  on  thinking  it 
over,  this  seemed  to  me  the  first  time  I  had  loved  back." 


THB  END. 


19 


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